7, 2., 2^ 


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Prtnrrton  Slirnlngtral  S>rmtttar^ 

BV  4253  .R48  1900  j 

Reverend  George  Leon  Walker, 
D.  D.,  1830-1900  : 


^>c^t:r^u.^A^^-^ 


REVEREND 

/ 

George  Leon  Walker,  D.D, 

18^0-1900 


HARTFORD,  CONN. 
1900 

[PRIVATELY  PRINTED] 


The  Case,  Lockwood  &  Brainard  Company,  Printers. 


MEMORIAL  SKETCH  AND  TRIBUTES. 


From  the  Hartford  Coiirant  of  March   14,  igoo. 

[By  WiLLisroN  Wai.kek.] 

Dr.  Georgk  Leon  Walker  passed  peacefully  away 
at  four  o'clock  this  (Wednesday)  morning  at  the 
Walker  home  on  Prospect  street.  There  were  gath- 
ered about  the  bedside  when  the  end  came  the  doctor's 
son,  Prof.  Williston  Walker,  and  his  wife;  the  doctor's 
brother,  Dr.  Henry  F.  Walker  of  New  York  ;  their 
sister,  Mrs.  Boardman,  and  her  husband.  Professor 
George  N,  Boardman.  The  immediate  cause  of  death 
was  a  severe  attack  of  pneumonia,  which  had  come  as 
a  second  attack  after  a  previous  illness,  from  which 
he  ralHed. 


The  Rev.  Dr.  George  Leon  Walker,  whose  death 
occurred  this  morning,  came  of  sturdy  New  England 
ancestry.  He  wa's  eighth  in  descent  from  Richard 
Walker,  who  settled  at  Lynn,  Mass.,  in  1630,  fought  in 
the  early  Indian  wars,  and  was  a  member  both  of  the 
Ancient  and  Honorable  Artillery  Company  of  London 
and  of  its  Boston  namesake.  His  great-grandfather, 
Phineas,  of  Woodstock,  Conn.,  was  a  soldier  in  the  Old 
French  and  Revolutionary  wars.  His  grandfather, 
I,eonard,  like  many  another  son  of  Connecticut,  emi- 


6  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

grated  to  Vermont  just  as  the  eighteenth  century  came 
to  a  close,  and  settled  at  Strafford.  His  father, 
Charles,  born  before  the  emigrant  left  the  Woodstock 
home,  graduated  at  Andover  Theological  Seminary 
in  1 82 1,  and  married  Lucretia  Ambrose,  daughter  of 
Stephen  Ambrose  of  Concord,  N.  H.,  a  woman  of  un- 
usual talents,  whom  the  subject  of  this  sketch  was 
markedly  to  resemble  in  character  and  features. 

The  Rev.  Charles  Walker  was  settled  at  Rutland  in 
the  first  pastorate  of  a  ministry  conspicuous  for  more 
than  half  a  century  in  Vermont  when  his  second  son, 
George  Leon,  was  born  on  April  30,  1830.  The 
changes  frequently  incident  to  ministerial  service  took 
the  father  to  Brattleboro  when  George  was  four  years 
old,  and  that  town  in  which  he  was  to  live  till  his 
seventeenth  year  was  always  dear  to  him  as  his  boy- 
hood home.  The  early  education  of  the  boy  was  in 
the  schools  of  Brattleboro,  and  he  was  accustomed  in 
later  life  to  recall  with  pleasure  the  inspiration  he  drew 
from  the  teaching  of  a  young  master  of  the  village 
high  school,  afterward  eminent  as  a  librarian  of  the 
Boston  Public  Library,  the  Hon.  Mellen  Chamberlain. 
But  the  boy's  home,  with  its  intellectual  and  earnest 
parents  and  its  four  keen-minded  children  —  three 
brothers  and  a  sister  —  was  the  most  fruitful  early  in- 
fluence that  came  to  him.  A  pastorate  of  twelve  years 
duration  at  Brattleboro  was  followed  by  the  removal  of 
the  father  to  Pittsford,  Vermont,  which  thenceforth 
became  the  family  residence. 

It  was  the  boy's  ambition  to  go  to  college ;  but  even 
before  leaving  Brattleboro,  a  spinal  curvature  from 
which  he  was  to  suffer  all  his  days  had  developed,  and 
his  prospect  of  life  seemed  so  precarious  that  the  col- 


MEMORIAL    SKETCH    AND    TRIBUTES.  7 

lege  course  had  to  be  forborne.  To  one  of  Mr.  Walk- 
er's energy  and  strength  of  will,  however,  such  a  de- 
privation was  a  challenge  rather  than  a  deterrent  ;  and 
the  studies  which  he  would  have  pursued  had  he  been 
able  to  obtain  the  coveted  college  training  were  fol- 
lowed out  alone,  so  that  he  acquired  not  merely  a 
knowledge  of  Greek  and  Latin,  but  a  very  thorough 
acquaintance  with  philosophy,  mathematics,  and  es- 
pecially with  English  literature,  toward  which  his  mind 
Avas  always  strongly  drawn.  The  classic  English  poets, 
most  of  all,  were  the  companionship  and  delight  of  his 
youth  and  early  manhood. 

In  1850,  an  appointment  as  clerk  in  the  Massachu- 
setts State  House,  procured  by  an  uncle,  the  Hon. 
Amasa  Walker,  brought  the  young  man  a  change  of 
scene  ;  and  the  next  three  years  were  spent  in  Boston 
in  the  duties  of  his  office  and  in  the  vigorous  study  of 
law  during  all  leisure  moments,  for  Mr.  Walker  was 
then  determined  to  make  the  legal  profession  his  own. 
These  plans  were  rudely  interrupted,  A  change  in  the 
political  control  of  the  state  cost  him  his  clerkship, 
and  a  subsequent  attack  of  typhoid  fever  deprived  him 
for  some  months  of  the  use  of  his  eyes  and  left  a  more 
permanent  witness  of  its  inroads  on  his  feeble  frame 
in  a  lameness  that  necessitated  the  use  of  crutches  for 
several  years.  The  young  student  of  law  went  back 
to  the  Pittsford  home,  in  broken  health,  his  prospects 
frustrated,  and  his  friends  discouraged.  But  he  had 
attained  to  one  certainty  in  his  own  mind.  He  was 
determined,  if  possible,  to  become  a  minister  ;  and,  to 
this  end,  as  soon  as  strength  permitted,  he  began 
to  study  theology  with  the  aid  of  his  father's  library. 
His  fondness  for  English  literature  also  continued,  and 


8  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

he  labored  on  a  poem  of  considerable  length.  The 
work,  though  too  introspective  and  reflective  of  the 
emotions  of  this  trying  epoch  to  make  Mr.  Walker  ever 
willing  to  have  it  published,  showed  an  unusual  skill  in 
the  mastery  of  expression  and  a  genuine  poetic  feel- 
ing. This  lengthened  period  of  feebleness  and  disap- 
pointment, though  it  failed  to  break  Mr.  Walker's 
courage,  left  its  impress  in  a  sense  of  the  seriousness 
and  the  struggle  of  life,  and  of  the  nearness  of  its  sor- 
rows to  its  joys,  upon  him  always. 

On  August  31,  1857,  Mr.  Walker  was  licensed  to 
preach  by  the  Rutland,  Vermont,  Association  ;  and, 
soon  after,  entered  Andover  Theological  Seminary  as 
a  "resident  licentiate,"  studying  in  that  institution  for 
a  year.  A  chance  opportunity  to  take  the  place  as 
pulpit  supply  of  a  professor  incapacitated  by  illness  led 
to  a  call  to  the  pastorate  of  the  State  Street  Church  in 
Portland,  one  of  the  most  important  in  the  common- 
wealth of  Maine.  On  September  16,  1858,  Mr.  Walker 
married  Maria  Williston,  daughter  of  Nathan  Birdseye 
Williston  of  Brattleboro,  Vt.,  and  on  the  13th  of 
the  following  October  he  was  ordained  to  his  new 
charge. 

The  time  of  his  pastorate  was  eventful.  Most  ac- 
tively of  any  of  the  Portland  ministers  he  espoused  the 
union  and  the  anti-slavery  causes  in  the  discussions 
preceding  the  civil  war,  and  at  the  cost  of  considerable 
criticism  :  but  his  remarkable  power  in  the  pulpit  and 
his  ready  sympathy  and  helpfulness  with  all  in  suffering 
and  bereavement  speedily  won  him  the  affection  of  the 
Portland  congregation  in  a  marked  degree.  Here  two 
sons  were  born  to  him,  Williston  on  July  i,  i860,  and 
Charles   Ambrose,  on  September   27,  1861,  the  latter 


MEMORIAL    SKETCH    AND    TR^'feuTES.  c; 

dying  on  July  22,  1869;  and  here,  on  August  31,  1865, 
he  lost  his  wife  by  diphtheria.  The  death  of  his  wife 
and  his  own  exertions  in  connection  with  the  great 
Portland  fire  of  July  4,  1866,  broke  down  his  never 
robust  health.  By  the  spring  of  1867  he  was  once  more 
on  crutches  and  compelled  to  return  to  his  father's 
home  at  Pittsford.  It  being  evident  that  his  ill-health 
would  be  somewhat  protracted,  his  people  reluctantly 
released  him  from  the  Portland  pastorate  on  October 
21,  1867. 

A  year  later  when  somewhat  improved  in  health, 
but  while  still  obliged  to  use  crutches  and  to  preach 
sitting  in  a  chair,  Mr.  Walker  was  invited  to  supply  the 
pulpit  of  the  First  Church  in  New  Haven,  Connecticut, 
from  which  the  Rev.  Dr.  Leonard  Bacon  had  then  re- 
cently retired.  As  a  consequence,  he  was  settled  over 
his  new  charge  on  November  18,  1868.  Here  his  min- 
istry met  with  great  acceptance,  as  at  Portland, —  a 
favor  that  was  witnessed  by  the  bestowal  upon  him  of 
the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  by  Yale  University 
in  1870.  On  September  15,  of  the  year  last  mentioned. 
Dr.  Walker  married  Amelia  Read  Larned  of  New  Ha- 
ven, daughter  of  George  Larned  of  Thompson,  Con- 
necticut. 

But,  though  conspicuously  successful  in  his  chosen 
vocation  and  greatly  attached  to  the  people  of  New 
Haven,  Dr.  Walker  soon  found  that  he  had  been  un- 
wise in  assuming  the  burdens  of  the  pastorate  once 
more  before  his  health  had  been  fully  re-established, 
and,  on  May  19,  1873,  he  had  to  relinquish  the  pulpit 
for  a  second  time.  From  October,  1873,  to  November, 
1874,  Dr.  Walker  sought  renewed  strength  in  Europe, 
living  chieflv  at  Stuttgart  and  Rome.     At  the  close  of 


lO  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

the  year  1874  he  returned  to  Brattleboro,  Vt.  For  the 
next  four  years  he  dwelt  with  his  father-in-law,  Mr. 
Williston,  in  the  town  of  his  boyhood  home,  in  the 
house  in  which  he  was  accustomed  to  spend  the  sum- 
mer thereafter  as  long  as  he  lived.  During  much  of 
these  four  years  of  continuous  residence  at  Brattleboro, 
from  October,  1875,  to  January,  1878,  he  acted  as 
pastor  of  the  Centre  Congregational  Church  of  that 
place,  without  e\'er  being  formally  inducted  into  its 
pastorate. 

From  Brattleboro  Dr.  Walker  was  called,  early  in 
1879,  to  the  First  Church  of  this  city,  and  was  installed 
in  its  ministry  on  February  27.  The  time  of  his  com- 
ing was  one  of  considerable  significance  in  the  history 
of  this  ancient  Church.  The  shifting  of  the  popula- 
tion which  was  to  make  its  situation  essentially  "down- 
town "  had  begun  to  affect  the  congregation,  a  consid- 
erable debt  rested  upon  the  Society,  and  a  strong  and 
moulding  leadership  was  desirable.  Under  Dr.  Walk- 
er's efforts  the  debt  was  speedily  paid,  the  house  of 
worship  renovated,  a  new  organ  procured  by  the  gift 
of  a  generous  member  of  the  Church,  and  a  renewed 
interest  and  pride  awakened  in  its  history  especially 
through  the  celebration  of  the  two  hundred  and  fiftieth 
anniversary  of  the  installation  of  its  first  ministers  in 
October,  18S3.  In  connection  with  that  event  Dr. 
Walker  prepared  a  most  painstaking  and  valuable 
"  History  of  the  First  Church "  that  was  published 
in  a  volume  of  five  hundred  and  fifteen  pages  in 
1884.  Assured  early  of  the  respect  and  affection  of 
his  congregation.  Dr.  Walker  grew  to  a  position  of 
influence  in  the  city,  especially  in  what  concerned 
the  preservation  of  its  memories,  illustrated,  to  specify 


MEMORIAL    SKETCH    AND    TRIBUTES.  u 

a  sihgle  instance,  in  his  interest  in  the  rescue  of  the 
ancient  biirving-o^roiind  and  the  associated  Gold  street 
improvement. 

In  the  larger  affairs  of  the  Congregational  body  Dr. 
Walker  was  a  recognized  leader.  Thus,  he  served  as 
one  of  the  commission  of  twenty-five  that  prepared  what 
has  been  generally  known  from  the  year  of  its  publica- 
tion as  the  "  Creed  of  1883,"  now  widely  accepted  as  a 
statement  of  Congregational  belief.  In  1885,  at  the 
seventy-fifth  anniversary  of  the  American  Board  of 
Commissioners  for  Foreign  Missions,  he  preached  the 
commemorative  sermon.  The  doctrinal  discussions 
which  turmoiled  the  Board  aroused  his  interest  and  en- 
listed his  participation  as  an  advocate  of  moderation, 
notably  at  the  meetings  of  the  board  at  Springfield  in 
1 887  and  at  New  York  in  1889;  and  led  to  his  appoint- 
ment, in  the  year  last  mentioned,  as  chairman  of  the 
"Committee  of  Nine "  which  formulated  the  altered 
policy  now  pursued  by  the  Board  in  making  missionary 
appointments.  From  1887  to  1899  he  was  one  of  the 
corporation  of  Yale  University.  In  1888  he  became 
a  member  of  the  "  Board  of  Visitors  "  of  Andover 
Theological  Seminary  —  an  office  which  he  held  till  his 
complete  disability  compelled  its  relinquishment  in 
1897,  being  during  the  latter  part  of  his  incumbency 
the  president  of  that  Board.  As  a  "Visitor"  he  had 
to  pass  upon  the  concluding  features  of  the  trial  of 
President  Egbert  C.  Smyth  and  the  questions  raised 
by  the  Andover  theology. 

In  all  the  controversies  in  which  he  was  engaged 
Dr.  Walker  showed  himself  a  fearless,  incisive  debater ; 
but  he  carried  a  judicial  mind  and  an  irenic  spirit,  so 
that  his  judgment  was  widely  trusted  and  his  wisdom 


12  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

generally  acknowledged.  And,  as  he  grew  in  age, 
without  abating  a  whit  of  his  fire  and  energy  of  con- 
viction, his  sympathies  steadily  broadened  and  his 
spirit  sweetened,  so  that  those  who  were  his  sharpest 
opponents  in  controversy  were  largely  won  to  personal 
friendship. 

Dr.  Walker's  Hartford  pastorate,  though  a  period  of 
health  compared  with  his  earlier  ministry,  was  not  with- 
out its  serious  physical  disadvantages.  In  him  the  spirit 
dominated  over  the  flesh,  as  when  just  before  preach- 
ing a  discourse  commemorative  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Leon- 
ard Bacon,  at  New  Haven,  in  1882,  he  broke  his  leg 
by  a  fall  on  an  icy  pavement,  yet  insisted  on  performing 
the  appointed  service  seated  in  a  chair.  His  disabil- 
ities interfered  with  his  work  less  than  similar  impair- 
ments of  strength  might  have  with  many ;  but  they 
were  always  felt  as  a  serious  burden.  A  journey  to 
Carlsbad,  Austria,  in  1886,  brought  him  some  improve- 
ment ;  but  a  tendency  to  attacks  of  angina  pectoris  at 
length  attained  to  such  severity  and  frequency  that 
on  June  12,  1892,  he  was  compelled  to  lay  down  the 
pastoral  charge  of  the  First  Church  altogether,  though 
retaining  the  title  of  pastor  emeritus  and  performing- 
occasional  service  as  strength  permitted  him.  A  year 
before  his  resignation,  in  1891,  he  published  a  life  of 
Thomas  Hooker  ;  and  after  his  retirement  he  ga\e 
himself  more  than  ever  to  historical  studies,  especially 
to  the  investigation  of  New  England  religious  history, 
in  which  he  had  always  had  a  deep  interest.  The 
fruit  of  these  labors  was  embodied  in  a  series  of  lec- 
♦  tures  on  "Aspects  of  the  Religious  Life  of  New 
England,"  which  he  gave  before  the  Hartford  Theo- 
logical Seminary  in  the  winter  of  1896.     These  were 


MEMORIAL    SKETCH    AND    TRIBUTES. 


13 


])ublished  in  1897  in  a  volume  that  has  met  with 
decided  acceptance. 

On  August  22,  1896,  at  his  summer  home  in  Brat- 
tleboro,  Dr.  Walker  was  stricken  with  apoplexy,  result- 
ing in  a  complete  deprivation  of  speech  and  an  almost 
total  paralysis  of  his  right  side.  These  disabilities 
continued  to  the  end.  His  mental  clearness  was  not 
impaired.  He  continued  to  enjoy  meeting  his  friends, 
and  the  reading  of  books.  He  followed  with  keen  in- 
terest the  course  of  public  events  as  narrated  in  the 
daily  press.  In  his  wheeled  chair  he  has  been  a  fa- 
miliar figure  on  our  streets.  A  great  blow  came  to 
him  in  the  death  of  his  devoted  wife  on  October  30, 
1898;  but  he  bore  his  trials  and  limitations  with  sin- 
gular courage  and  patience,  till  he  was  set  free  from 
his  long  imprisonment  by  the  angel  of  death.  In  all 
the  vicissitudes  of  his  lot  he  showed  himself  the  strong, 
brave.  Christian  man. 

Dr.  Walker  was  a  man  of  a  good  deal  of  natural 
shyness  and  resei've  of  manner.  Forced  to  husband 
his  time  and  strength  by  reason  of  illness,  especially 
in  early  life,  he  had  less  inclination  than  many  toward 
the  pleasures  of  social  intercourse.  But  to  any  in  anx- 
iety, sorrow,  or  personal  suffering,  his  sympathies  went 
out  in  a  full  measure  that  made  his  ministrations  always 
welcomed,  and  rendered  him  beloved  by  those  to  whom 
he  thus  showed  himself.  In  his  family  he  was  a  man 
of  warm  affection.  In  all  benevolent  causes  he  was 
interested  and  generous.  His  tastes  were  strongly  at- 
tracted in  several  artistic  directions.  He  had  much  ac- 
quaintance with  engravings,  and  was,  in  a  very  modest 
degree,  a  collector  of  prints.  He  knew  much  of  colo- 
nial furniture,  and  loved  to  finish  or  repair  an  antique 


M 


REVEREXD    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER.    D.D. 


piece  with  his  own  hands.  He  was  interested  in  colo- 
nial literature,  especially  that  which  bore  on  the  history 
of  Congregationalism,  and  collected  an  excellent  work- 
ing library  on  the  theme.  He  wrote  readily  and  well, 
and  published,  besides  the  three  volumes  already  indi- 
cated, a  large  number  of  sermons,  papers,  and  articles. 

Dr.  Walker  was  undoubtedly  at  his  best  in  the  pul- 
pit. With  few  of  the  characteristic  graces  of  the  orator, 
he  had  the  rare  faculty  of  being  able  always  to  make 
men  listen  to  what  he  had  to  say.  His  message  inva- 
riably bore  the  stamp  of  earnestness,  directness,  and 
conviction.  Its  form  was  fresh  and  striking,  its  devel- 
opment clear  and  convincing.  And  through  the  ser- 
mon there  ran  a  vein  of  feeling,  sometimes  of  pathos, 
sometimes  of  entreaty,  always  of  positive  faith,  which 
touched  the  heart  of  the  hearer  no  less  than  the  matter 
of  the  discourse  appealed  to  the  intellect. 

Dr.  Walker  is  survived  by  a  son.  Professor  Williston 
Walker  of  the  Theological  Seminary ;  by  a  brother, 
Henry  F.  Walker,  M.D.,  a  physician  of  prominence  in 
New  York  City,  and  by  a  sister,  Mrs.  Anne  W.  Board- 
man,  the  wife  of  Professor  George  N.  Boardman,  long 
the  occupant  of  the  chair  of  Systematic  Theology  in 
Chicago  Theological  Seminary. 


From  the  Hartford  Courant  of  March  ij,  igoo. 

The  funeral  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  George  Leon  Walker, 
pastor  emeritus  of  the  Center  Church,  was  held  in  that 
church  yesterday  afternoon,  at  3.30  o'clock,  after 
prayers  by  the  Rev.  Melancthon  W.  Jacobus,  D.D., 
acting  pastor,  at  his  late  home  on  Prospect  street. 
The  service  was  characterized  by  a  simple  dignity,  and 


MEMORIAL    SKETCH    AND    TRIBUTES.  j- 

was  very  impressive.  The  pulpit  platform  was  heav- 
ily set  with  palms  and  ferns,  and  from  the  desk  from 
which  Dr.  Walker  had  preached  so  many  times,  there 
depended  an  array  of  lilies,  and  just  below  a  large 
shower  of  white  roses,  while  at  the  north  entrance  to 
the  pulpit  stairs  a  large  cluster  wreath  of  pink  roses 
completed  the  floral  setting.  A  large  audience  of 
parishioners  and  many  well-known  public  men  of  the 
city  were  present. 

The  service  opened  with  the  processional,  led  by 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Jacobus,  reciting  the  lines,  "  I  am  the 
Resurrection  and  the  Life,"  the  choir  chanting  the 
antiphonal  responses.  Following  him  were  the  Rev. 
Dr.  E.  P.  Parker  of  the  South  Congregational  Church 
and  the  Rev.  Joseph  H.  Twichell  of  the  Asylum  Hill 
Congregational  Church,  who  assisted  in  the  service ; 
the  ushers,  J.  Coolidge  Hills  and  Frank  G.  Smith, 
and  the  honorary  bearers,  Dr.  Henry  P.  Stearns, 
Rowland  Swift,  Daniel  R.  Howe,  Dr.  George  R.  Shep- 
herd, Wilbur  F.  Gordy,  and  Solon  P.  Davis,  The 
casket  was  covered  with  loose  bouquets  of  ferns  and 
lilies  of  the  valley,  and  was  borne  on  the  shoulders  of 
six  colored  porters,  and  following  were  the  family, 
friends,  and  representatives  of  the  Center  Church. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  E.  P.  Parker  invoked  the  Divine  bless- 
ing, the  choir  sang  "O  God,  Our  Help  in  Ages  Past," 
Dr.  Parker  reading  selected  passages  from  the  Scrip- 
tures. The  choir  sang  "  O  Love  Divine,  That  Stooped 
to  Share,"  and  the  Rev.  Joseph  H.  Twichell  offered 
prayer,  at  the  close  of  which  the  body  was  removed 
from  the  church,  the  choir  singing  "  For  All  the  Saints 
Who  From  Their  Labors  Rest."  Benediction  by  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Jacobus  closed  the  church  services. 


1 6  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON     WALKER,    D.U. 

From  the  Hartford  Telegram  of  March  ly,  igoo. 

The  funeral  services  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  George  Leon 
Walker  began  with  prayers  at  the  house,  No.  46  Pros- 
pect street,  at  3  o'clock  yesterday  afternoon,  only  rela- 
tives and  intimate  friends  of  the  dead  preacher  being 
present.  Prayers  were  offered  by  Professor  Jacobus, 
acting  pastor  of  the  church,  after  which  the  remains 
were  taken  to  the  Center  Church  for  the  public 
funeral. 

The  services  at  the  church,  which  was  filled  with  its 
members  and  friends  of  the  dead  pastor,  were  begun 
with  the  funeral  chant  given  responsively  by  the  choir 
and  Prof.  Jacobus.  The  prayer  of  invocation  was  of- 
fered by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Parker  of  the  South  Church, 
followed  by  the  hymn,  "  O  God,  Our  Help  in  Ages 
Past,"  by  the  choir.  The  scriptural  selections  were 
read  by  Dr.  Parker.  Dr.  Holmes'  hymn,  "  O  Love 
Divine,  that  Stooped  to  Share,"  was  sung,  followed 
by  the  closing  prayer  by  the  Rev.  J,  H.  Twichell  of 
the  Asylum  Hill  Congregational  Church.  While  the 
last  hymn,  '•  P'or  All  the  Saints  Who  From  Their 
Labors  Rest,"  was  sung,  the  remains  were  borne  from 
the  church.  The  benediction  was  pronounced  by  Pro- 
fessor Jacobus. 

The  family  and  a  delegation  from  the  church  will 
accompany  Dr.  Walker's  remains  to  Brattleboro,  Vt., 
for  interment,  leaving  on  the  8.04  train,  this  morning. 
Relatives  who  were  present  at  the  funeral  were  Dr. 
Henry  F.  Walker  of  New  York,  the  brother  of  the 
doctor ;  Professor  and  Mrs.  George  N.  Boardman  of 
Chicago,  Mrs.  Boardman  being  the  sister  ;  Miss  Mary 
M.  Walker  of  Northampton,  Mass.,  cousin  ;  Ambrose 
Eastman,   Esq.,   of    Boston,    cousin ;    Colonel    D.    R. 


MEMORIAL    SKETCH    AND    TRIBUTES.  17 

Larned  of  Washington,  D.  C,  brother  of  the  late 
Mrs.  Walker ;  Mrs.  Edgar  Sherman  and  daughter, 
Miss  Mary  R.  Sherman,  of  New  York,  sister  and  niece 
of  Mrs.  Walker ;  William  R.  Howe,  Esq.,  of  Orange, 
N.  J.,  nephew  of  Mrs.  Walker  ;  Mr.  Robert  Walker  of 
New  York,  the  Hon.  and  Mrs.  Francis  Wayland  of 
New  Haven. 


An  Editorial  published  in  The  Congregationalist  of 
March  22,  igoo. 

Probably  the  impression  which  Dr.  Walker  made  upon 
most  people  at  first  was  that  of  positiveness  of  character. 
No  one  could  talk  with  him  two  minutes  without  com- 
prehending that  he  had  definite  convictions  and  was 
accustomed  to  assert  them  frankly.  He  had  the  gift 
of  clearness  also.  Knowing  exactly  what  he  believed, 
he  uttered  himself  so  lucidly  that  no  one  continued  in 
doubt  unless  he  meant  to  leave  uncertainty,  and  then 
no  doubt  of  that  fact  remained.  He  also  seemed  to 
be,  and  was,  intensely  in  earnest.  To  him  life,  duty, 
and  influence  were  serious  things,  responsibility  for 
which,  although  not  an  oppressive  burden,  none  the 
less  was  never  to  be  forgotten  or  disregarded. 

These  characteristics,  when  they  accompany  such 
signal,  and  in  some  respects  unusual,  natural  ability  as 
his,  inevitably  render  their  possessor  a  leader  among 
men,  and  this  he  was  conspicuously.  Although  re- 
markably free  from  the  spirit  of  self-seeking,  he  ac- 
cepted readily  such  responsibilities  as  naturally  fell  to 
him,  and  his  sagacity  and  efficiency  were  so  fruitfu 
that  his  services  to  the  church  and  the  world,  great 
and  valuable  although  they  were,  doubtless  would  have 
been  multiplied  largely  had  not  his  physical  frailty  pro- 


l8  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

hibited.  Indeed,  it  is  surprising  that  one,  much  of 
whose  life  was  a  prolonged  fight  for  health,  should 
have  left  such  a  record  of  important  and  diversified 
service. 

No  one  should  think  of  Dr.  Walker,  however,  as 
lacking  the  more  winning  qualities.  He  could  be 
sharp  and  severe.  He  was  not  to  be  provoked  with 
impunity.  Yet  he  was  as  tender  and  gentle  as  he  was 
fearless  and  outspoken.  He  won  love  as  easily  as 
respect.  Although  his  lack  of  robustness  limited  him 
more  than  most  men  to  domestic  enjoyments,  there 
were  few  more  companionable  men,  few  who  contrib- 
uted more  to  the  genuine,  appropriate  pleasure  of  any 
social  occasion  which  he  could  attend.  In  this  as  in 
everything  else  he  had  a  high  ideal,  and  for  that  very 
reason  he  leaves  a  more  precious  memory.  He  was 
notably  considerate  and  helpful  towards  the  young, 
especially  young  ministers,  to  whom  a  few  words  out 
of  his  long  experience  always  gave  courage,  and  rarely 
failed  to  add  illumination. 

In  his  successive  pastorates  he  won  reputation  as 
among  the  freshest,  most  forcible,  and  successful  of 
preachers.  In  the  wider  field  of  denominational  work 
he  was  a  conceded  leader.  He  was  concerned  promi- 
nently in  the  leading  controversies  of  our  last  twenty 
years,  but  with  no  impairment  of  his  repute  for  wis- 
dom, fairness,  or  kindliness.  As  a  historical  scholar 
and  author  he  also  made  an  honorable  name.  Although 
he  has  been  withdrawn  from  active  life  for  several 
years,  lingering  in  the  twilight  of  life  until  his  earthly 
sun  should  set,  he  has  not  been,  nor  will  he  be,  for- 
gotten. A  great  and  good,  an  honored  and  beloved 
leader  has  been  called  away  from  us. 


MEMORIAL    SKETCH    AND    TRIBUTES. 


19 


A  Letter  of  Rev.  Dr.  Edwin  Pond  Parker,  of  the  Sec- 
ond Church,  Hartford,  to  the  Hartford  Times  of 
March  14,  igoo. 
The  departure  of  Dr.  George  Leon  Walker  from 
these  earthly  scenes  is  another  public  bereavement 
added  to  those  which  this  community  has  recently  sus- 
tained. Although  his  residence  in  Hartford  had  not 
been  of  long  duration,  it  had  been  long  enough  to  en- 
able him  to  identify  himself  with  our  public  interests, 
to  put  himself  at  the  head  of  his  brethren  in  the  Gos- 
pel ministry  here,  and  to  win  the  respect,  the  rever- 
ence, and  the  affection  of  our  people  generally.  Al- 
though for  the  last  four  years  he  has  been  withdrawn 
from  all  participation  in  public  affairs,  he  has  not  been 
withdrawn  from  the  fond  and  tender  regard  which 
his  character  and  services  had  secured  for  himself, 
but  has  been  the  object  of  an  ever-deepening  love  and 
sympathy. 

Perhaps  no  one  now  living  in  Hartford  has  so  long 
known  him  as  I  have.  When  I  was  a  student  in  Bangor 
Theological  Seminary,  he  came  to  the  pastorate  of  the 
State  Street  Church  in  Portland,  Me.,  and  circum- 
stances which  led  me  frequently  to  Portland  at  that 
period,  brought  me  also  into  some  personal  acquaint- 
ance with  him.  At  that  time  his  peculiar  power  as  a 
preacher  was  fully  recognized,  and  no  minister  in 
Maine  stood  higher  in  the  estimation  of  his  brethren 
and  of  the  churches.  His  solid,  sound,  sterling,  intel- 
lectual qualities  were  then,  as  ever  since,  combined 
with  such  a  sincerity,  depth,  seriousness,  and  earnest- 
ness of  character,  as  made  all  his  public  utterances 
both  interesting,  engaging,  instructive,  and  impressive. 
It  need  not  be  said  that,  as  he  grew  in   years  and  in 


20  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

experience,  he  grew  in  wisdom  and  grace  and  power, 
broadening  and  ripening  and  mellowing  through  the 
summer  and  autumn  of  his  life  ;  but  his  distinguish- 
ing qualities  of  mind  and  character  were  as  conspicu- 
ous in  the  earlier  years  of  his  public  ministry  as  in  the 
later.  He  never  attempted  to  live  or  act  or  speak  up 
to  the  convictions  of  other  men,  but  up  to  his  own 
well-considered  and  settled  convictions.  He  was 
immovable  in  what  seemed  to  him  right  and  best. 
He  was  courteous,  but  frank  and  courageous  and 
explicit  in  the  expression  of  his  opinions  and  beliefs. 

I  think  he  was  particularly  distinguished  for  the 
clarity  of  his  thought  and  of  its  expression.  The 
stream  of  his  discourse  was  always  perfectly  pellucid. 
Dr.  Burton,  who  became  very  fond  of  Dr.  Walker, 
once  said  to  me  of  him  :  "His  thinking  is  as  clear-cut 
and  definite  as  if  stamped  with  a  die." 

His  literary  art  always  reminded  me  of  fine  etchings. 
This,  with  just  a  touch  here  and  there  of  soft  color, 
supplied  from  a  chastened  imagination,  made  his 
thoughtful  discourse  or  essay  a  thing  of  quiet  beauty. 
It  was  all  so  clear,  pure,  luminous,  and  instinct  with 
earnest  feeling. 

Just  this  clarity,  this  purity,  this  tenderness  of  feel- 
ing, this  color  of  beauty,  this  severity  of  simplicity, 
touched  all  the  while  with  subdued  emotion,  which 
were  so  noticeable  in  his  writings,  were  no  less  notice- 
able in  all  his  more  private  communications.  They 
were  grounded  in  his  nature  and  character,  "  The 
style  was  the  man."  They  who  only  saw  and  heard 
Dr.  Walker  in  the  pulpit  and  only  knew  him  as  a 
] preacher,  might  have  misjudged  a  prevailing  serious- 
ness and  even  solemnity  of  aspect  and  manner.     He 


MEMORIAL    SKETCH    AND    TRIBUTES.  21 

had  a  holy  horror  of  the  sort  of  wit  with  which  some 
ministers  —  usually  destitute  of  real  wit  or  humor  — 
endeavor  to  enliven  their  discourses.  At  an  installa- 
tion service  here  in  Hartford,  when  a  brother  minister 
was  lugging  into  his  talk  sundry  vain  endeavors  after 
jocosity,  he  said  to  me,  groaning  with  pain,  "  Oh, 
Parker,  can  we  never  be  rid  of  these  wretched 
attempts  to  be  witty  on  such  occasions  !  "  But,  at 
the  proper  time  and  occasion.  Dr.  Walker  could  be 
deliciously  humorous.  No  one  more  quickly  saw  or 
more  cordially  appreciated  the  humorous  aspect  of 
things.  He  was  delightful  in  conversation,  genial, 
suggestive,  witty,  and  sympathetic. 

Last  November  the  General  Conference  of  the  Con- 
gregational churches  of  Connecticut  was  held  in  the 
Park  Church  of  this  city.  At  the  afternoon  session. 
Dr.  Walker  was  present,  for  he  dearly  loved  his  pro- 
fessional brethren. 

He  was  wheeled  up  the  side  aisle  in  the  chair  that 
so  many  will  remember,  to  a  position  not  far  from  the 
pulpit.  When  attention  was  called  to  his  presence,  at 
a  given  signal,  the  whole  congregation,  chiefly  com- 
posed of  clergymen,  rose  together  and  stood  for  a  few 
moments,  in  token  of  their  respect  and  love  for  the 
dear,  the  pure,  the  good  man,  whom  they  all,  I  believe, 
gladly  and  gratefully  acknowledged  as  the  "chief 
among  them." 

In  the  long  line  of  ministers  who  have  served  in  the 
pastorate  of  the  First  Church  in  this  city,  Thomas 
Hooker  stands  first  and  foremost,  I  suppose.  In  my 
opinion  Dr.  George  Leon  Walker  stands  next  to  him 
in  the  rank  of  greatness. 

It  is  with  joy  in  his  deliverance  out    of   strangely- 


2  2  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

ordered  infirmities,  but  with  deep  sorrow  that  we  shall 
see  his  dear  face  no  more  here,  that  we  bid  him — a 
brother  greatly  beloved  —  farewell  !  e.  p.  p. 


Extract   from  a  Sermon  by  Dr.   Parker  published   in 
the  Hartford  Com  ant  for  March  26,    igoo. 

Dr.  Parker's  sermon  at  the  South  Church  yesterday 
morning  was  on  the  words  in  which  St.  Paul  describes 
himself,  in  his  Roman  captivity,  as  a  "  prisoner  of  the 
Lord."  The  general  thought  Okf  the  discourse  was 
that  Christian  men  and  women  are  by  no  means  cut 
off  from  the  possibility  of  service  and  usefulness  by 
the  various  disabilities  which  may  befall  them  in  the 
course  of  faithful  living  —  disabilities  which  are  often 
as  great  as  if  they  were  those  of  outward  constraint. 
Dr.  Parker  said  : 

"  It  may  be  pardonable  to  cite  a  case  familiar  to 
many  of  you,  which  strikingly  illustrates  my  interpre- 
tation of  this  phrase.  It  is  now  nearly  four  years 
since  Dr.  Walker  was  suddenly  and  mysteriously 
arrested,  as  by  the  touch  of  an  unseen  authority,  and 
imprisoned.  His  imprisonment  was  a  strict  and  dis- 
abling one.  There  was  a  chain  upon  his  limbs,  there 
were  fetters  upon  his  lips.  His  disabilities  were,  in 
many  respects,  far  greater  than  those  of  St.  Paul. 

"  But  was  that  dear  man  of  God  a  useless  Christian 
through  those  years  of  restraint  and  limitation .''  Was 
he  without  influence  and  power  in  this  community 
during  that  period  of  confinement.''  Just  because  he 
was  all  the  while  'the  prisoner  of  the  Lord,'  believing 
himself  to  be  such,  and  behaving  himself  as  such, 
there  was  a  dignity  and  distinction,  as  well  as  pathos, 


MEMORIAL    SKETCH    AND    TRIBUTES.  23 

in^his  condition  that  effectually  appealed  to  men  and 
women.  Power  was  with  him,  and  went  forth  from 
him,  and  benediction.  Light  streamed  forth  from  his 
comparatively  solitary  life,  and  the  influence  of  his 
faith  and  courage  and  patience  was  continually  and 
widely  felt  in  our  city  and  elsewhere  ;  so  that,  when  at 
last  he  was  released  and  removed,  it  was  universally 
felt  that  Hartford  had  sustained  a  distinct  bereave- 
ment in  his  departure.  He  was  continually  saying, 
inaudibly  but  effectually,  *  I,  the  prisoner  of  the  Lord, 
beseech  you  that  ye  walk  worthy  of  the  vocation 
wherewith  ye  are  called ; '  and  perhaps  that  mute, 
pathetic,  dignified  ministration  of  his  was  as  powerfui 
as  any  preaching  of  the  word  from  any  pulpit  in  this 
city." 


A  Sketch  entitled  "George  Leon  Walker  in  Hartford,"  by 
Rev.  Joseph  H.  Twichell,  of  the  Asylum  Hill  Congrega- 
tional Church,  Hartford,  in  the  Congregationalist  of 
March  2g,  igoo. 

Within  little  more  than  half  a  year  the  ancient  mother 
church  of  Hartford  has  been  bereaved  of  both  its  min- 
isters. August  8  died  Dr.  Lamson.  On  the  14th  of 
the  present  month  Dr.  Walker,  pastor  emeritus  since 
1892,  when  failing  health  enforced  his  retirement  from 
active  service,  also  fell  asleep.  By  both  events  our 
general  community  was  affected  with  an  unusual  sorrow 
and  sense  of  loss.  In  the  circumstances  of  the  leave- 
taking  in  the  two  cases  there  was,  however,  a  great 
contrast.  Dr.  Lamson's  call  hence  was  most  sudden 
and  unprepared  for.  For  four  years  Dr.  Walker  had 
lain  in  a  feeble  and  helpless  condition  expecting  the 


24  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

hour  of  his  departure,  which  he  and  all  knew  could  not 
be  far  off. 

When  in  a  moment  Dr.  Lamson  was  gone,  we  woke 
to  consider,  as,  naturally,  we  had  not  done  before,  what 
we  thought  of  him,  how  large  his  worth  in  our  esteem 
and  how  high  his  deserved  place  in  our  affection. 
But  during  the  long  period  in  which  Dr.  Walker,  and 
ourselves  with  him,  were  in  waiting  for  his  release,  we 
had  time  to  reflect  much  upon  him  and  to  discover  the 
impression  of  himself  —  of  his  gifts,  his  character,  his 
work  —  which  he  had  made  upon  us,  and  our  feelings 
about  him  altogether  as  the  result  of  the  previous 
thirteen  years  of  his  fellowship  with  us. 

One  conclusion  we  reached  in  consequence,  in  which 
we  were  united,  was  that  declared  by  Dr.  Parker,  for 
forty  years  honored  pastor  of  our  Second  Church, 
when,  in  a  communication  to  the  Hartford  Times, 
the  day  that  Dr.  Walker  left  us,  he  wrote :  "  In  the 
long  line  of  ministers  who  have  served  in  the  pastorate 
of  the  First  Church  in  this  city,  Thomas  Hooker 
stands  first  and  foremost,  I  suppose.  In  my  opinion, 
Dr.  George  Leon  Walker  .stands  next  to  him  in  the 
rank  of  greatness."  That  was,  indeed,  saying  a  great 
deal,  but  it  was  a  judgment  from  a  highly  competent 
source,  soberly  pronounced,  and  probably  will  stand. 

From  the  time  of  his  settlement  in  Hartford  Dr. 
Walker  passed  in  a  remarkable  manner  into  sympathy 
and  communion  with  its  historic  memories,  and  particu- 
larly under  fascination  of  the  personality  of  his  mighty 
predecessor.  No  one  beside  had  ever  done  so  much  to 
illumine  the  work  achieved  by  Hooker  in  his  day  and  to 
exalt  his  title  to  lasting  renown  as,  incidentally  to  the 
quarter-millennial  of  the  old  church   in    1883,  did  he. 


MEMORIAL    SKETCH    AND    TRIBUTES. 


25 


For  intellectual  power  and  independence  conjoined  with 
virile  force  of  spirit,  he  was  himself  distinctly  of  the 
masterful  type. 

In  matters  on  which  a  course  was  to  be  taken,  it 
was  eminently  characteristic  of  him  to  think  for  him- 
self, to  work  out  his  own  result,  and  in  simple,  uncon- 
scious courage  to  order  his  position  accordingly.  Ol 
this  his  memorable  sermon  at  the  seventy-fifth  anni- 
versary of  the  American  Board  in  1885,  and  the  part 
he  bore  in  the  strenuous  debates  that  occurred  at  some 
of  its  subsequent  meetings,  were  illustrations. 

But  here  in  Hartford  we  had  already  learned  that  he 
was  a  strong  man  of  just  that  sort,  whose  mind  was  his 
own,  and  who,  where  his  convictions  were  concerned, 
did  not  shrink  from  the  initiative.  To  be  sure,  he  came 
to  us  in  his  mature  prime  and  as  a  man  of  established 
reputation,  yet,  even  so,  it  was  extraordinary  how  soon 
he  obtained  in  our^  community  at  large  the  deference 
accorded  to  those  felt  to  be  of  competent  judgment  in 
affairs  and  wise  in  counsel. 

In  a  singularly  graceful  and  appreciative  published 
tribute  to  Dr.  Lamson  at  the  time  of  his  death,  Dr. 
Samuel  Hart,  an  eminent  Episcopal  clergyman,  then 
professor  in  Trinity  College,  speaking  of  the  place  that, 
in  the  brief  period  of  his  residence  in  the  city,  he  had 
won  in  the  public  regard,  said  : 

"  Dr.  Lamson's  predecessor  in  the  pastorate  had 
gained  an  almost  unique  position  among  us.  I  think 
that  in  some  way  we  expect  one  who  holds  that  pas- 
torate to  be  our  first  citizen,  taking  the  lead  in  matters 
which  have  to  do  with  the  religious  and  moral  welfare 
of  the  community,  and  holding  for  it  a  real  connection 
with  all  its  past  history Dr.  Walker  is  still 


26  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

among  us,  and  we  hope  that  he  knows  how  universally 
he  is  recognized  as  a  man  of  leading  position  and  influ- 
ence among  us,  how  gladly  we  recognize  all  that  we 
owe  to  him,  and  how  strong  a  hold  he  has  upon  our 
affections." 

Few,  I  am  confident,  will  challenge  the  justice  of  the 
statement  that  no  minister  of  any  Hartford  church  in 
modern  times  has  carried  the  measure  of  weight 
as  a  citizen  that  George  Leon  Walker  did — Horace 
Bushnell  alone  excepted. 

With  this  strong  man  came  to  us  a  strong  preacher, 
upon  which  fact  there  is  small  need  to  dwell,  for  the 
knowledge  of  it  is  not  confined  to  Hartford.  Intel- 
lectually, his  pulpit  work  was  of  a  very  rare  order  of 
excellence.  His  sermons  were  abundantly  mixed  with 
brains.  There  was  always  a  thoughtfulness  and  an 
ability  in  his  handling  of  his  subject  that  compelled  the 
respect  of  his  hearer,  whoever  he  might  be.  More- 
over, in  point  of  literary  art,  his  preaching  was  of  a 
quality  equally  rare.  His  style  was  marvelously  lucid 
and  incisive,  and  exhaled  the  flavors  of  culture.  Pro- 
fessor Lounsbury,  Yale's  most  distinguished  English 
scholar,  who  was  wont  often  to  hear  him  during  his 
pastorate  in  New  Haven,  once  told  me  that  more  than 
any  other  preacher  he  had  ever  listened  to  he  revealed 
in  his  use  of  language  intimacy  of  acquaintance  with 
the  English  classics  ;  that  not  infrequently  he  could 
identify  the  very  mine  from  which  the  choice  gold  of 
his  speech  had  been  extracted. 

But  these  things  concern  the  secondary  elements  of 
his  pulpit  power  only.  The  principal  secret  of  his 
eft'ect  as  a  minister  of  the  divine  Word  of  course  lay 
deeper  —  in  the  intense  conviction  of  the  evangelical 


MEMORIAL    SKETCH    AND    TRIBUTES.  27 

truth  with  which  he  was  penetrated.  He  believed, 
therefore  he  spoke.  Regarding  him,  at  least,  it  was 
never  by  any  surmised  that  he  did  not  wholly  mean 
what  he  said,  or  that  he  was  keeping  back  some  part 
of  what  he  thought.  His  veracity  was  of  the  kind  that 
could  be  felt,  and  he  was  transparently  fearless. 

In  the  extract  cited  from  the  pen  of  Dr.  Hart  there 
is  reference  to  the  hold  Dr.  Walker  gained  on  our  af- 
fections. A  very  strong  hold  indeed,  it  was,  and,  it 
may  be  allowed,  unexpectedly  so.  Whoever  was 
thrown  in  with  him  in  the  ways  of  life  casually,  or  only 
a  few  times,  must  probably  have  judged  him  rather 
unlikely  —  less  likely  than  most,  perhaps  —  to  inspire 
attachment  in  private  social  relations.  His  manner 
was  uncommonly  reserved  and  distant.  While  this 
was,  doubtless,  to  some  extent  due  to  the  ill-health  with 
which  from  his  youth  he  had  contended,  it  must  pre- 
sumably have  been  also  of  his  constitutional  make.  He 
was  naturally  undemonstrative.  During  the  five  years 
of  his  New  Haven  pastorate,  we  of  Hartford,  though 
we  had  not  infrequently  met  him,  had  none  of  us  grown 
into  anything  more  than  half  acquaintance  with  him. 
And  when  he  entered  our  circle  we  expected  that, 
though  he  was  a  great  addition  to  us,  we  should  find 
him  socially  somewhat  indigestible,  which  we  did  for  a 
time,  but  only  for  a  time.  It  did  not  take  us  long  to 
discover  that  this  inexpressive  man  was  as  full  of  the 
milk  of  human  kindness  as  he  could  hold.  Little  by 
little,  in  ways  fondly  remembered  but  that  it  would  be 
difficult  to  describe,  it  leaked  out  that  under  that 
severe  seeming  outside  beat  a  heart  of  unbounded  out- 
flowing good  will  and  of  most  generous,  appreciative 
sympathy. 


28  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER.    D.D. 

I  can  never  forget  how,  going  one  day  into  the  study 
of  the  late  Dr.  Burton  —  ever  and  to  this  hour  dearly 
beloved  —  I  was  hailed  with  :  "  I'm  glad  you've  come 
in!  I've  got  something  to  show  you  —  a  note  from 
Walker  !  "  Dr.  Burton  had  just  preached  the  sermon 
at  the  funeral  of  our  revered  neighbor,  Rev.  Myron  N. 
Morris  of  West  Hartford,  and  the  note,  which  he  pro- 
ceeded to  read  to  me,  was  one  Dr.  Walker  had  written 
to  say  how  thankful  to  him  he  was  for  the  manner  in 
which  he  had  opened  the  theme  of  that  good  man's 
virtues.  It  was  extremely  cordial  in  its  tone,  and  it 
ended  thus  :  "  What  a  pity  there  are  so  few  of  whom 
such  things  can  be  said,  and  only  one  man  who  can 
say  them." 

"Twichell!"  exclaimed  Dr.  Burton,  slapping  the 
note  down  upon  the  table,  "a  Frenchman  couldn't 
beat  it !  " 

Well,  in  short,  by  one  token  and  another,  we  were 
presently  made  aware  that  in  our  new  associate  was  a 
plenitude  of  the  paternal  sentiment  toward  every  one 
of  us,  and  we  all  fell  in  love  with  him — the  more 
deeply  by  reaction  from  our  first  impression  of  him. 
And  so  it  went  on  thenceforward,  our  love  ever  grow- 
ing, till  at  last,  while  he  lingered  stricken  amongst  us, 
called  of  his  Heavenly  Father  to  endure  the  long, 
weary  trial  of  strange  affliction,  it  mounted  to  an  infi- 
nite, yearning  tenderness.  A  soul  wealthier  by  nature 
and  by  grace  in  the  tempers  of  gentleness  and  fellow 
feeling  and  magnanimity  than  he  had  never  been 
vouchsafed  to  our  companionship. 

His  sympathies  and  his  compassions  were  wide- 
ranging,  and,  though  he  confessedly  had  a  peculiar 
skill  in  ministering-  the  consolations    of   the  faith    to 


MEMORIAL    SKETCH    AND    TRIBUTES. 


29 


broken  hearts,  were  not  confined  to  humanity.  It 
was  a  beautiful  disclosure  of  his  inward  character 
and  life  —  of  his  religion,  and  as  well  a  notable  event 
in  the  Christian  annals  of  Hartford  —  his  preaching, 
as  he  did  in  1891,  a  splendid  sermon,  full  of  pathos 
and  marked  by  all  his  felicities  in  discourse,  on  the 
duties  we  owe  to  dumb  animals.  This  sermon,  enti- 
tled by  him  Our  Humble  Associates,  was  afterward 
published  as  a  tract  by  our  Connecticut  Humane  Soci- 
ety and  has  since  been  distributed  by  the  thousand, 
nor  is  it  the  least  worthy  monument  of  its  author. 

The  quality  of  mercy  was  ingrained  in  his  spirit.  If 
I  may  be  permitted  another  personal  reminiscence  — 
it  was  in  June,  1895,  (so  my  note-book  tells  me,)  that  I 
went  to  him  on  the  unwelcome  errand  of  asking  him 
to  give  me  the  facts  relative  to  a  certain  man's  misdeed 
in  the  somewhat  remote  past,  with  which  fact,  he,  as 
pastor,  had  been  acquainted.  I  explained  the  reason 
of  my  request  —  that  it  was  not  a  private  one,  but  offi- 
cial and  compulsory.  He  heard  me  through,  was  silent 
for  a  minute  or  two,  and  then,  with  more  emotion  than 
I  had  ever  seen  him  manifest  before,  answered  :  "  Yes, 
I  know  all  about  it,  but,  Twichell,  I  will  not  tell  it  to 
you  or  to  anybody.  That  wrong  was  repented  of  and 
forgiven,  and  I  will  do  nothing  to  impart  the  knowl- 
edge of  it,  or  to  keep  the  memory  of  it  alive." 

He,  however,  undertook  himself  to  speak  a  word  in 
a  certain  quarter,  whereby  the  object  of  my  coming  to 
him  would  be  served.  As  I  was  leaving  and  we  stood 
in  the  door,  he  said,  in  a  softened  but  very  earnest 
tone  :  "  What  should  you  and  I  do  if  there  wasn't  any 
forgiveness  of  sins .-'  " 

What  wonder  that  this  scene,  witness  of  the  thoughts 


^O  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

in  which  he  lived  before  God,  has  remained  with  me 
from  that  time  as  representative  of  the  man,  and  that 
it  came  back  to  me  when  I  looked  on  his  dead  face. 


A  tribute  by  Professor  George  Nye  Boardman,  of 
Chicago  Theological  Seminary,  published  in  the 
Necrology  of  Afidover  Theological  Seminary. 

Dr.  Walker  was  a  person  of  marked  individuality 
from  his  youth.  His  tall,  slender  form,  his  flushed 
cheeks  and  otherwise  pallid  face  indicated  physical 
frailty  not  needing  interpretation.  From  the  age  of 
sixteen  it  seemed  almost  certain  that  pulmonary  dis- 
ease had  fastened  upon  him.  It  was  really  chronic 
pleurisy,  from  which  he  was  never  wholly  free.  It 
was  at  this  time  that  he  turned  his  attention  to  the 
subject  of  religion,  and  in  1848  united  with  his  father's 
church  at  Pittsford.  His  religious  experience  was  of 
a  somewhat  melancholic  hue,  fostered  by  the  Imitatio 
Christi  and  such  like  books.  Later,  a  typhoid  fever 
left  him  with  a  lameness  that  was  never  entirely  over- 
come. In  after  times,  on  occasions  of  depressed  health, 
he  was  forced  to  resort  to  his  crutches,  and  sometimes 
in  preaching,  notably  at  New  Haven,  to  occupy  a  seat 
prepared  for  him  in  the  pulpit.  The  four  years  suc- 
ceeding his  stay  in  Boston  were  spent  mostly  at  his 
father's  home.  This  was  the  period  of  his  special  in- 
tellectual culture.  Continually  threatened  with  lung- 
disease,  often  moving  about  with  crutch  and  cane,  he 
delved  year  after  year,  reading  the  poets  and  acquiring 
that  mastery  of  the  English  language  which  enabled 
him  to  marshal  words  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  them 
servants  of  his  thought  and  will. 


MEMORIAL    SKETCH    AND    TRIBUTES. 


31 


Very  soon  after  his  settlement  as  a  pastor  he  de- 
veloped qualities  besides  those  of  a  preacher  which  at- 
tracted attention.  He  was  a  citizen  as  well  as  a  min- 
ister. He  sent  forth  ringing  utterances  in  the  Civil 
War,  and  took  active  part  in  questions  concerning  pub- 
lic schools.  He  was  often  called  upon  to  take  part  in 
important  councils  and  in  measures  and  movements 
connected  with  home  and  foreign  missions. 
On  a  review  of  his  life,  his  character,  as  a  whole, 
stands  out  before  the  minds  of  his  friends  with  great 
distinctness.  They  are  impressed  with  the  power  of 
his  intellect,  especially  its  quick  and  accurate  intui- 
tions ;  with  the  power  of  his  imagination,  imparting 
fervid  life  to  historic  scenes  as  well  as  natural  objects ; 
with  his  acute  aesthetic  sensibility ;  with  his  persist- 
ency in  purpose  and  effort ;  and  with  the  dominant 
good  sense  that  controlled  all  his  actions.  But  when 
all  things  are  considered  —  the  illnesses  of  early  life, 
the  interruptions  because  of  physical  infirmities  in  his 
professional  career,  those  last  three  and  a  half  years  of 
disablement  from  locomotion  and  speech  —  his  friends 
are  impressed  most  of  all,  perhaps,  by  his  courageous 
and  patient  endurance. 


From  a  letter    by   its    Hartford   correspondent    in    the 
Springfield  Republican  of  March  18,  igoo. 

Dr.  George  Leon  Walker,  who  died  Wednesday 
morning,  was  too  large  and  fine  an  intellect  to  be 
valued  at  his  real  worth  by  most  of  those  with  whom 
he  came  in  contact.  Dr.  Parker,  in  a  really  admirable 
article  on  him,  has  spoken  particularly  of  the  clarity 


3 2  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

of  his  thought.  Fully  sympathizing  with  that  recog- 
nition of  a  distinguishing  quality,  I  am  inclined  to 
place  his  sanity  even  higher.  He  was  judicious,  in 
the  large  sense,  not  always  in  trifles,  because  he 
attached  no  more  importance  to  them  than  the  law 
does  to  the  things  it  includes  in  the  phrase  de  viini- 
inis.  He  came  very  near  to  being  Goethe's  "  self- 
poised"  man.  Add  that  he  was  a  genuinely  good 
man,  and  a  kindly,  with  an  intellect  as  acute  as  it  was 
solid,  and  you  have  the  elements  of  a  really  remarka- 
ble character.  That  he  gained  the  distinction  he  did 
was  merely  incidental  to  his  doing  his  own  work  in 
his  own  way.  Had  he  sought  much  more  he  would 
have  attained  it,  but  he  might  not  have  been  so  large 
a  man. 


VERSES. 


Dr.  Walker,  in  early  manhood,  especially  during  his 
sojourn  in  Boston  and  his  years  of  convalescence  and 
study  in  his  father's  home  at  Pittsford,  gave  much 
attention  to  writing  verse  —  a  form  of  expression 
which  he  abandoned  after  entering  on  the  exacting 
labors  of  the  pastorate.  The  following  stanzas,  all 
written  in  the  period  from  his  twenty-second  to  his 
twenty-eighth  year,  are  here  printed  as  illustrative  of 
his  love  of  nature  and  of  his  Christian  faith. 


"NOW    THE  DROWSY  YEAR  AWAKENS." 

Once   more   earth's   mighty   enginery   has   roll'd 

Round   her  far   pathway,   worn   with    ages   old, 

The   wheeling   sphere.     Not   with    thundering   sound, 

Jarring   discord,    but   through   the   vast   profound 

Of   desert,   void,    illimitable   space, 

Pealing   music,   till   on   the   dial   face 

Of  time,  the   bounding   Spring   proclaims   again 

The  glad   resumption   of   her  gentle   reign. 

Most   lovely    Spring,   earth   welcomes   thee, 

A  greeting   waves   in   every   tree  ; 

From   every   hedgerow,    far   and   near, 

Tumultuous   chorals,   ringing   clear, 

Fling   to   each   odorous   gale. 

From    warbling   hearts,   their  joyful    hail. 


36  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

The    rustling    leaves,    with    yellow    breasts, 

Impatient   cast   the    armor   crests 

'Neath    which,    but   little   time    ago, 

They   shrank    from    Winter's    cold    and    snow. 

Bursting   buds   their   choice   perfume. 

Woodland   flowers   their   brightest   bloom. 

Jocund    brooks   their  gayest   song, 

Twitt'ring   birds   their   merriest   throng. 

Dallying   winds   their  gentlest   sighs. 

Morning   clouds   their  richest   dyes, 

Liquid   skies   their   deepest   blue, 

Flaunting   fields   their   greenest   hue. 

Joy   to   give    as    homage    due. 

'Neath   the   hill-side's   shelt'ring   lee. 

Where   the   violet   springeth    free, 

Play-day   bees   on    lazy   wing 

(iossip    of   the    opening    Spring, 

(iaudy   flies   in   perk   attire, 

( iold    and   green,    and   fring'd   with    fire. 

Dart   and   flash,    and   circling   wheel. 

Humming   low   the   joy   they   feel. 

And   joyous    is   tlie    mountain   now. 

Though    high    upon    its   rocky   brow 

A    gleaming   coronet   of   snow 

Sheds   pearly   drops   to   lakes   below; 

But   round   its  wide    and   wooded   sweep. 

Where   ancient   firs   and   balsams   weep 

Their   fragrant   tears,    the   wild-flowers   spring. 

And   wide   the   vines   their   tendrils   fling, 

(^r   clasp   around   the   rugged    form 

Of   some    scarr'd   wrestler   with    the   storm. 

And   joyous   are   the   vales   below  — 

Their   varied   vestures   brightly   glow. 

And    seem   like    water's   liquid   flow. 

So   smoothly    blend   the   gorgeous   dyes 

In   which    the   flooded   landscape    lies. 

In   blushing   morning's   level   beam, 

In    mellow   evening's   purple   gleam, 

Upwreathing   in   fantastic   streams, 


VERSES. 

Vapor)-    fragrance   curling   steams. 

And    wide   around   the   landscape   smokes 

With   incense ;    while   the   hoary   oaks, 

Towering  grim   through   the    cloudy   sea, 

In    nature's   temple    seem    to   be 

Tlie   priests   of   some   religion   old, 

When   earth    and   man   one   creed    did    hold : 

But   joining   now   in   mystic    rite 

With    winds   and    skies,    and    air   and   light. 

f'rom   vales   and   groves   and   mossy   dells. 

F"rom    crystal  lakes   and   rocky   fells, 

From    all   things   joyful   homage   bring. 

And   revYent   offer   to   the    Sorina:. 


INADEOUATENES.S. 


Many   be   the   songs   of   Spring- 
Trilled   by   poets   happy-hearted  ; 

Half   they   seem   themselves   to   sing. 

And,   wakened   by   their   caroling. 
Tears   of   sudden   joy   are   started. 

But   never   deftest   muse   may   tind 
Line   so   gently   flowing 

Soft   to   chime   with    April   wind. 

Through    budding   boughs   of   the    wildwood    blowing 


Lines   there   are   so   sweet,    they   seem 

Summer-laden   blossoms   springing ;  — 
Yellow   cowslips'   sunny  gleam. 
Or   daisies   by   the   shadowed   stream 

Brushed   by   wild-vine   gently   swinging. 
But   never   subtlest   art   can   frame 

Words   so   fresh   and   glowing; 
Fancy   were   not   put  to*  shame 

Bv   hare-bell    blue,    in   the   dingle   growing. 


37 


^8  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 


Haunt   we   then   the   hazel  dell? 

Tenderest  rhymes   be  left  behind   us ; 
There   do   softer   warblings   dwell, 
And   ripe   with   fuller   beauty   swell, 

And   sweeter   poets   there    will   find    us. 
All   praise   to   songs   of   Summer   when 

Winter   eves   are   dying;  — 
Wakens   Spring   the   woods   again? 

Then    Merlin's   song   leaves   us    weary   sighing ! 


DAWN. 

The   purple   banners   of   the   coming   day 

Waved   broad    above   the    ashen   mountain's   cone, 

And    flushed    a   shadowy   halo   up   the   gray 
Of   lonely   heaven,   deserted   save   where   shone, 
Wan   with   long   vigil,    weary,   sad,    alone, 

(^ne   fainting   star,   with    slowly-pulsing  light. 

Last   patient   watcher   o'er   the   couch   of   night. 

North,   south,   from   peak   to   peak    the   glory    rolled ; 
A    'wildered   cloud,    far   voyaged,  caught   up    the   glow, 

And    crowned    the   western   height   with    rivalled   gold, 
The   emulative    lake   displayed   below 
In   ruby   tides   diffused,    the   gorgeous   show; 

And,    as   redeemed   from    deluge   waste   anew, 

Hill,   valley,   woodland,    radiant   rose   to   view. 


VERSES.  39 

AUTUMNAL    SONNETS. 
I. 

Discroivned. 

O'er  banks  of  mossy  mould  how  lightly  strown 
All  the  wan  summer  lies !     The  heedless  tread 
Awakes  no  sound,  and  had  not  pale  leaves  tied 

As  soft  it  came,  the  low  wind  were  not  known. 

How  strange  the  sharp  and  long-drawn  shadows  thrown 
From  lank  and  shriveled  branches  overhead, 
While  from  their  withered  glories  spoiler-shed 

The  earthv  autumn  scents  are  faintly  blown. 

Ah  !  reft  and  ravaged  bowers,  the  garish  day 

Flaunts  through  the  hidings  of   your   dewy  glooms  ;  — 
And  though  in  leafy  twilights  wont  to  be, 

Shy  maid,  sweet-thoughted  Sadness,  come  away, 
And  here  beneath  this  hemlock's  drooping  plumes, 
With  pensive  Retrospection,  muse  with  me. 


II. 
The  First  Frost. 

The  hoar  path  sparkled  in  the  level  beam, 

A  frosty  shimmer  filled  the  silent  air. 

My  quick  breath  curled  in  cloud  lines  faint  and  fair 
As  down  the  whitened  field,  along  the  stream. 
Through  the  gray  rushes  flashing  in  the  gleam, 

Up  the  steep  hillside-way  I  went,  to  where 

With  the  dear  wildwood  I  was  wont  to  share 
Each  joy  or  pain  through  all  the  Summer's  dream. 
A  chill  fell  on  my  heart.     How  still  on  high 

The  rimey  branches  stood  against  the  blue ! 

No  voice  for  me,  no  motion,  nor  a  breath  ! 
And  I  stood  dumb ;  no  pitying  tear,  no  sigh 

Of  yearning  hope,  for  deep  I  felt  they  knew 
That  cold  and  glitterini;  silence  told  of  Death. 


4©  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

HOPE. 

Dear    Beech,  now    that  thy   pale    tops  tipped   with    brown 
Drink   softer   tints   from    Autumn's   golden    air, 
And    not   a   motion   wakes   save   here    and   there 

A   lonely  leaf   comes   wavering   noiseless   down, 

I    fain   would   seek   why   Winter's   frosty  frown 
Alone   can   charm   thee   all   thy   state   to   wear, 
Alone   can   light  that  smile,  so   dear   and   fair 

That   thy   last   hour   is    all   the   season's   crown ! 

Is   it  that    when   on   us   the   drear   days   press, 

Some   strength   our   hearts   may  glean  with    grief    to  cope 
As   memory  brings   again   thy  loveliness ; 

Or   that   beneath    those   still,  prophetic   signs 
The   yearning   of   thy   sudden   joy  divines 
The   truth    and   promise   of   a   fadeless    Hope ! 


FROM    THEE    COMETH    HELP. 


Dear    Lord,    this   world   which    Thou   hast    wrought, 
And   with    Thine   own   divineness   fraught, 

No   fullness   has   for   me; 
I    pine   within   this   fair   abode. 

Nor,   glad   howe'er,    content   can    be. 
Though   from   it   to   my   heart   has   flowed 

A    beauty   like    the    sea. 

II. 

The    narrow   hopes    of   earthly   days, 
The   little   hum   of   human   praise, 

Leave   hunger   in   my   breast ; 
Though    by   her  promise   oft   beguiled 

To   follow   in    an   eager   quest. 
Deceiving   Hope   a  moment  smiled, 

Then   left   me   void    of   rest. 


VERSES. 


For   but   with    phantoms   side    by   side 
Through   things   of   time   my   footsteps   glide, 

And    like   to   shadows   flee; 
And    beauty   that   may   fill   the   soul 

Athirst   for   an    Infinity, 
Springs    not   where   circling   seasons   roll. 

But   lives    alone   in   Thee. 


Ah    then !    from    out   my   strivings   vain, 

Thou    Home   of    Rest,    thou    Peace    from    pain. 

I    come   to    Thee   alone ; 
O    Fount   of    Life  —  O    Life   of   Day  — 

O    Fullness   of    Creation's   zone  — 
Lift   on   my   life   the   quick'ning   ray 

That   makes   me   born   Thine   own. 


DEDICATION    HYMN. 

At  the  opening  of  the  ne%u  Cemetery  at  Pitts/ord,    Vt., 
July  4,  1857. 

O    Thou   to   whose   eternal   years 

No   grief,    or   loss,   or   change   is   known. 

We  hallow   here   our  place   of  tears 
For   death   that   dwells   with    us    alone. 

Here   hearts   that   bleed   will   sadly   turn, — 

Here    Pity   fill   the   drooping   eye. 
And   striken    Hope   with   love   will   yearn 

O'er   us   who   fade    away   and   die. 

Yet   we   who   weep,    and   they   who   rest. 
Alike   are   known   and    dear   to    Thee ; 

And   they   are   dearer   to    Thy   breast 
Than   to   our   hearts   they   e'er   can   be. 


41 


A2  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

Bless   then   this   spot,    where   years   shall   bring 
Thy   loved   ones,    Lord,   to   their   repose ; 

Spread   o'er   them   here   Thy    sheltering   wing, 
And    in    Thy   peace   their   dust   enclose. 

So   shall    this   place   of   tears   be    made 
The   Hill   of   Hope,   the   Field   of   Peace; 

Here   calmly   then   can   we   be   laid 

To   wait   the   hour   when    Time   shall   cease. 

And   when   these   bending   skies   have   flown, 
And    all   who   sleep   shall   rise   again. 

Be   this   the   garner   of   Thine   own, 
The   harvest   of   the    Precious    Grain. 

Take    Thou   this   Hill:     It   first   was   thine: 
From   earthly    use   these   bounds   we   free,  — 

To   nobler   sheaves   its   roods   resign. 
And   give    it.    Lord,    again   to   Thee. 


111. 


PRAYER-MEETING  TALKS. 


It  was  Dr.  Walker's  invariable  habit  to  make  elabo- 
rate preparation  for  the  mid-week  meeting,  though 
always  speaking  from  a  skeleton  outline  of  his  address. 
These  outlines  often  grew  into  sermons  for  Sunday 
use.  Those  here  presented  were  chosen  because  found 
in  his  pocket-book  at  the  time  of  his  paralytic  seizure. 
They  had  evidently  been  selected  by  him  for  future 
sermonic  development.  They  were  used  at  the  prayer, 
meetings  of  the  First  Church,  Hartford,  in  the  years 
appended  to  each. 


I. 

John  VIII  :  12.     Not  zualk  in  darkness,  etc. 

Occasion  of  Christ's  words. 
Imagery  on  which  founded. 
Implication  with  regard  to  life. 
Promise  ligJit,  not  darkness. 


But  now,  as  a  matter  of  practical  experience,  there 
is  a  great  amount  of  doubtfulness.  We  believe,  sup- 
pose, hope.  A  main  reason  for  this  :  —  we  do  not 
follow  Christ.     Do  not  take  Him  as  guide.     Do  not 


^6  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D 

bring  all  things  to  the  test  of  His  words  and  life.  Or 
we  do  these  things  imperfectly.  Peter  followed  afar 
off  ;  got  into  trouble. 

How  to  get  light  :  —  follow  truth  to  its  consequences. 

I.  Christ's  loving  presence  and  care.  With  you 
always.  Think  of  it.  Make  effort  to  realize  it.  It 
will  grow  real  and  true.  But  many  can't  see.  How 
to  make  the  effort. 

n.     Duty  as  a  Christian,  if  perplexed. 

Begin  at  the  sensitive  point  of  conscience.  Attempt 
something  every  day.  Follow.  Not  all  things  at 
once.  Progress  in  Christian  living.  There  is  great 
light  in  simple  surrender  to  conscience  and  principle. 

Grandeur  in  attitude  of  trust  in  God,  where  nothing 
else  can  be  had  :  Though  He  slay  me,  etc.  But  that 
is  not  the  general  attitude  of  life.  We  need  the  light 
of  life.  The  unity  which  comes  through  loving  obedi- 
ence, loving  following.         (1883.) 


H. 

Matthew  X  :  2-4.     Nozv  the  names  of  the  tzvelve  apos- 
tles are  these,  etc. 

The  variety  and  sufficiency  of  Christ's  adaptation  to 
men. 

Christ  might  have  done  His  work  without  any  inti- 
mate companion  ;  or  He  might  have  had  one  only. 
But  He  had  many,  and  their  traits  are  carefully  recorded 
with  some  distinctness. 


PRAYER-MEETING   TALKS.  47 

Why  ?  One  reason  is  that  the  Gospel  might  be  vari- 
ously attested.  Many  witnesses.  But  a  reason  of  no 
less  significance  is,  that  the  Gospel's  adaptation  to 
many  might  be  seen. 

Who  were  they  .''     Some  of  them. 

1.  Matthew,  the  man  of  business  cares, 

2.  Nicodemus,  learned  in  the  law. 

3.  Joseph  of  Arimathsea,  the  man  of  wealth. 

4.  Peter,  the  impulsive  fisherman. 

5.  John,  the  spiritual-minded. 

6.  Thomas,  the  doubting  man  ;    a  type  of  char- 

acter now  familiar. 

7.  Mary  Magdalene. 
Their  mention  shows  :  — 

I.  The  variousness  of  Christ's  sympathy.  He 
could  reach  different  types  of  men.  He  had  a  real 
interest  in  them  all. 

n.  The  variousness  of  Christ's  power  to  win  alle- 
giance and  to  satisfy  need.  The  converse  true.  Un- 
like men  loved  Him.     Their  ideals  all  met  in  Him. 

HI.     Encourages  our  trust  in  and  approach  to  Him. 

(1884.) 

HI. 

II   Cor.  IX  :  8.      God  is  able  to  make  all  grace  abound 
toward  you,  etc. 

A  passage  for  people  in  view  of  some  of  life's  diffi- 
cult places. 

A  rich,  full  passage.  It  grew,  as  much  of  Scripture 
did,  out  of  local  circumstances.  Its  special  occasion 
was  the  collection  for  the  poor  at  Jerusalem. 

It  teaches  that  God  is  able  to  supply  your  need. 


^8  REVEREXD    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

A  general  principle:  —  all  grace  needful  for  one's 
case  can  be  had. 

I.  All  needful  wisdom  in  religious  things.  If  any 
of  you  lack  wisdom  let  Jiini  ask  of  God.  A  precious 
promise,  especially  at  such  a  time  as  the  present.  Di- 
versity of  views,  contradictions  of  opinion,  meet  us. 
What  is  truth  ?  Where  }  Perplexing  to  the  young 
Christian  ;  to  the  young  minister.  God  is  able  to  give 
needful  wisdom.     He  is  willing. 

II.  All  needful  strength  in  bearing  what  God  sends. 
A  precious  promise  to  men  in  the  midst  of  struggle  ;  — 
to  sufferers  ;  — -  to  those  who  foresee  coming  trouble  : 
He  will  be  with  me.      "  He  is  able  "  to  give  strength. 

III.  All  needful  efificiency  for  work. 

The  idea  of  efificiency  in  all  good  works  is  sharply 
expressed  in  the  text.  Often  impressed  by  Scripture 
writers.  How  can  my  work  be  most  efficient  }  This 
one  life  I  have  to  live.  What  a  problem  to  any  young- 
person  !     To  make  the  most  of  life. 

Efficiency  for  special  effort  : 

He  is  able  to  make  His  grace  abound  in  the  particu- 
lar responsibilities  of  young  ministers;  —  of  Sunday- 
School  teachers  ; —  of  parents  ;  —  of  all.  (1885.) 


IV. 
Matthew  V  :  48.     Be  ye  therefore  perfect,  etc. 

A  controverted  passage.  Pelagians,  Methodist  Per- 
fectionists, etc. 

My  purpose  does  not  take  into  the  field  of  discussion 
the  question  whether  it  is  possible  to  be  sinless  or  not. 

A  practical  use  of  the  text.     Take  a  high  aim.     Set 


PRAYER-MEETING    TALKS. 


49 


God's  perfectness  as  a  standard.  What  Christ  had 
been  saying.  Vc  Jiave  heard,  etc.  A  low  standard. 
Christ  calls  His  followers  to  rise  above  it.  He  exhorts 
them  :  Be  ye  tJieref ore  perfect  even  as  your  Father  ivhicli 
is  in  heaven  is  perfect. 

An  exhortation  and  a  standard  like  this  is  most  im- 
portant, for  there  prevails  very  often  and  enervatingly 
among  men  a  hopeless  view  of  the  possibilities  of 
resistance  to  evil. 

I.  In  self.  We  conclude  evil  must  necessarily  be 
"temper,"  "weakness,"  "fault,"  "infirmity." 

H.  In  the  world.  There  always  has  been  sin.  We 
conclude  that  there  always  must  be  great  evils. 

The  result  is  a  practical  Manichaeanism.  Dual  prin- 
ciples.    Permanent. 

Now  the  Christian  doctrine  is  that  evil  can  be  over- 
come. The  Son  of  God  zvas  manifested  that  he  might 
destroy  the  works  of  the  devil. 

Salvation  has  two  aspects  : —  Forgiveness,  cleansing. 

Christ's  work:  He  shall  save  His  people  from  their 
sins.  The  Lamb  of  God,  ivhicJi  taketh  away  the  sins 
of  the  ivorld.  Titus  II  :  14.  Its  object  is  primarily 
to  overcome  sin. 

It  makes  a  mighty  difference  in  his  struggle  whether 
the  attitude  of  the  Christian  is  one  of  hope  or  of  doubt. 

How  can  sin  be  overcome  .-*  A  suggestive  passage 
is  Romans  XII  :  21  :  Overcome  evil  with  good.  Dis- 
place it  by  something  better. 

{a)  In  self.  Put  yourself  into  other  things.  Get 
interested  in  something  more  worthy.  Make  yourself 
interested. 

{b)   In  the  world.     Set  good  in  place  of  bad.     Value 
of  high  aims  and  of  co-operative  efforts.     (1888.) 
4 


^O  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

V. 

Luke  XVIII  141.      What  wilt  thou   that  I  shall  do 
unto  thee  ? 

The  blind  man  had  precise  knowledge  of  his  need. 

We  all  pray.  We  pray  often.  We  use  strong  lan- 
guage of  importunity.  But  suppose  Christ  should  ask 
of  each  one  of  us  the  question  :     What  for  thee  ? 

Liability  to  vagueness  in  prayer  ;  in  confession  ;  in 
supplication. 

I.  Importance  of  a  knowledge  of  what  we  need. 

1.  Of  particular  faults  to  be  rectified. 
Illustrate  by  drawing.     Elocution. 

2.  Of  particular  deficiencies  to  be  supplied. 
Physical  lacks  are  a  subject  of  study  and  of 

protracted  efforts  to  remedy.     Spiritual  de- 
ficiencies should  be  no  less  so. 

II.  Importance  of  a  desire  for  Spiritual  blessings. 
Hunger  and  thirst  after  righteousness. 

III.  Importance  of  co-operation  with  our  prayers. 
One  great  cause  of  their  frustration  is,  that  we  pray 

one  way  and  go  another.     Live  in  accordance  with  our 
prayers. 

IV.  Importance  of  expectancy  of  results. 

The  true  relation  between  means  and  ends.  The 
Gospel  hopeful.  (1892.) 


IV. 


SERMONS. 


OUR  FATHER  IN  HEAVEN.* 


Ephesians  III:  14,  15. 

"  The   Father,  from    whom   every  family    [Greek  fatherhood^ 
ill  heaven  and  on  earth  is  named.  " 

I  am  not  certain  whether  I  have  ever,  at  Sunday 
service,  or  Thursday  lecture,  taken  these  precise  words 
of  Scripture  as  a  text  for  remark  or  not.  Possibly  a 
sufficient  rummaging  among  old  manuscripts  would 
enable  me  to  determine.  But  the  question  is  of  very 
little  consequence.  If  I  ever  did  use  them  it  was  well ; 
if  I  never  did  I  am  sorry.  If  I  were  to  use  them  a 
dozen  times  it  would  not  be  too  often.  For  these 
words  not  only  bring  before  us  a  truth  of  supremest 
interest  to  us  all,  but  they  do  it  in  a  peculiarly  striking 
and  effective  manner. 

The  general  truth  that  the  apostle  in  this  passage 
affirms  is  God's  Fatherhood  of  us  and  of  all  men.  The 
peculiar  presentation  he  makes  of  the  fact  is  that  the 
Fatherhood  of  God  is  the  original  type  and  pattern  of 
all  other  fatherhood  that  we  know  of  anywhere.    "  The 


*  Preached  on  February  9,  1890,  on  recovery  from  a  severe 
illness. 


54 


REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 


Father  from  whom  every  fatherhood,  in  heaven  and  on 
earth,  is  named."  God,  that  is  to  say,  is  not  simply 
called  the  Father  of  men  because  there  arc  traits  in 
Him  somewhat  like  those  in  earthly  parents,  and  be- 
cause relations  exist  between  Him  and  us  which  have 
an  analogy  to  those  which  exist  between  us-  and  our 
children.  Perhaps  we  have  sometimes  thought  of  the 
matter  in  that  way.  If  so,  we  have  thought  of  it  ex- 
actly the  wrong  way  round.  God's  Fatherhood  is  the 
original  thing ;  man's  fatherhood  is  the  derived  and 
imitative  thing.  The  human  parenthood  is  but  a  poor, 
imperfect  image  of  the  Divine  parenthood,  even  as  man, 
whom  the  Scriptures  tell  us  was  made  "in  God's 
image,"  is  but  a  sorry  likeness  of  the  being  in  whose 
image  he  was  made. 

Now,  my  dear  friends,  I  do  not  know  exactly  how  it 
may  be  with  you,  but  I  confess  that  for  myself  there 
is  no  fact  of  this  life  of  ours  which  grows  so  in  signifi- 
cance and  in  value  as  I  go  onward  in  it,  as  the  fact  of 
God's  Fatherhood.  There  is  no  other  truth  I  can 
think  of,  so  freighted  with  hope  and  comfort  for  this 
troubled  world,  as  this  of  which  it  seems  to  have  been 
so  primal  an  object  of  Christ's  mission  upon  earth  to 
convince  men,  the  Fatherliness  of  God  toward  men. 
How  often  that  word  "Father"  was  on  His  lips. 
How  continual  His  use  of  that  tender  name,  not  only 
in  His  personal  references  to  His  own  relationship  to 
God,  but  in  those  collective  references  which  embraced 
others  than  Himself, —  nay,  which  embraced  very  sin- 
ful and  imperfect  men  as  well  as  Himself.  When 
twelve  ignorant  men,  one  of  whom  certainly  was  ulti- 
mately apostate,  came  to  Him  with  the  request,  "  Lord, 
teach  us  to  pray,"  what  was  the  address  with  which 


SERMONS. 


55 


He  bade  them  draw  nigh  to  the  object  of  their  adora- 
tion and  supplication  ? 

Not,  O  infinite  and  unchangeable  sovereign ;  not, 
supreme  and  predetermining  disposer,  but,  "  Our 
Father  which  art  in  heaven."  When,  in  His  conver- 
sation with  the  inquiring  and  scholarly  Nicodemus  on 
the  object  and  scope  of  His  mission,  Christ  gave  per- 
haps the  most  concise  and  explicit  definition  of  the 
origin  and  intent  of  His  enterprise  that  He  ever  any- 
where expressed,  this  was  what  He  declared  it  to  be : 
"  God  so  loved  the  world,  that  He  gave  His  only  be- 
gotten Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  on  Him  should 
not  perish,  but  should  have  eternal  life." 

The  writer  to  the  Hebrews  tells  us  that  in  old  times 
God  spake  "  unto  the  fathers  in  the  prophets  by  divers 
portions  and  in  divers  manners,"  but  that  He  "hath  at 
the  end  of  these  days  spoken  unto  us  in  His  Son." 
And  no  fact  is  plainer  in  that  Son's  communication  to 
men  than  His  importunity  and  reiteration  in  declaring 
the  Fatherly  character  of  His  God  and  ours. 

And  yet  how  slowly  has  this  Fatherly  view  of  the 
divine  character  grown  among  men  !  How  much  more 
ready  have  men  been  to  fasten  upon  some  adjunctive 
and  subsidiary  feature  of  the  revealed  attributes  of  the 
Being  with  whom  we  have  to  do  —  His  kingly  power, 
His  unchangeable  wisdom,  His  sovereign  purposes,  His 
righteous  justice  —  rather  than  to  reach  up  toward  an 
endeavor  to  comprehend  something  of  that  Infinite 
Fatherliness  in  which,  with  a  great  deal  beside,  all 
those  separate  characteristics  coalesce  and  inhere ! 

It  has  always  been  an  interesting  fact  to  me  that  as 
thoughtful  men  and  women  grow  old  in  the  Christian 
life — I  speak  in  a  general  way  and  with  full  recogni- 


56  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

tion  of  the  existence  of  exceptional  people  run  in  pecu- 
liarly dialectic  or  dogmatic  moulds  —  a  readier  response 
arises  in  their  breasts  to  presentations  of  the  divine 
character  and  dealings  which  bring  out  the  Fatherly 
traits  of  the  divine  nature.  I  cannot  think  this  is  alto- 
gether the  effect  of  the  softening  influence  of  age. 
Not  by  any  means  is  it  to  be  wholly  ascribed  to  that 
increased  tenderness  of  feeling  which  takes  its  softened 
coloring  from  the  eye  that,  as  Wordsworth  says :  — 

"  hath  kept  watch  over  man's  mortality." 

Some  such  increased  leniency  of  judgment  undoubt- 
edly there  is  which  is  the  result  of  experience.  Our 
own  failures  and  faults  lead  us  to  be  more  forbearing 
toward  the  faults  and  failures  of  others.  Our  own 
sense  of  the  need  for  ourselves  of  some  traits  in  the 
divine  character  other  than  those  of  the  justice  before 
which  we  have  trembled,  or  the  holiness  before  which 
we  have  bowed  ourselves  in  awful  adoration,  make  us 
more  recognitive  as  we  go  on  in  life,  of  such  character- 
istics as  disclosed  and  actual  in  the  being  whom  we 
worship. 

Youth  is  proverbially  peremptory  and  severe.  Nar- 
row in  self-knowledge,  limited  in  observation  of  others, 
it  judges  quickly  and  it  judges  hardly.  It  knows  not 
how  to  make  allowances.  It  has  little  appreciation  of 
what  is  contained  in  that  sweet  saying  of  Scripture, 
"  He  knoweth  our  frame,  He  remembereth  that  we  are 
dust." 

I  had  a  sweet,  bright  boy  once,  lent  me  for  seven  years 
before  God  took  him.  Brighter  and  more  generous  lit- 
tle soul  never  lighted  up  any  household  with  his  mirth 
and  jollity.     But  he  had  the  peremptoriness  and  posi- 


SERMONS. 


57 


tiveness  which  I  have  said  was  characteristic  of  youth. 
A  natural  leader  of  others,  his  playmates  would  gather 
in  a  group  about  him,  and  from  the  vantage  ground  of 
a  box  or  a  chair  he  would  preach  them  a  sermon.  I 
confess  that  his  sermons  were  of  the  denunciatory 
rather  than  the  consolatory  kind.  He  told  me  once 
with  a  voice  like  a  silver  bell  that  he  had  compiled  a 
code  of  laws;  "fifty-three  laws,"  said  he,  "and  every 
one  of  them  hanging  laws  but  two."  Ah,  me!  had  he 
lived  a  little  longer  the  number  of  the  hanging  laws  in 
his  code  would  have  been  smaller,  and  the  sermons  he 
preached  would  have  doubtless  taken  sometimes  more 
heed  of  men's  need  of  forgiveness  and  consolation. 

But  though  there  is  doubtless  an  influence,  as  \ 
have  said,  in  increasing  age  and  in  widening  experi- 
ence to  soften  men's  judgment  of  others,  and  to  make 
them  look,  in  their  estimates  of  the  divine  character, 
for  those  traits  which  bespeak  His  grace  more  than 
His  power,  still  I  cannot  believe  that  the  increasing 
tendency  toward  more  filial  thoughts  of  God,  of  which 
I  have  spoken  as  belonging  to  aging  piety,  is  mainly 
attributable  to  these  causes.  On  the  contrary,  it  is,  I 
think,  much  more  ascribable  to  the  better  understand- 
ing of  God's  character  attained  by  growing  more  like 
Him.  And  as  it  is  with  the  individual,  so  also  is  it 
with  the  perfecting  experience  of  the  Church  as  a 
whole.  A  process  goes  on  in  the  general  Christian 
mind  of  the  race  analogous  to  that  which  takes  place 
in  the  mind  of  the  single  disciple.  The  educated  and 
experienced  consciousness  of  men  feels  the  need  and 
recognizes  the  reality  of  traits  in  the  divine  character 
which  the  ruder  and  more  juvenile  periods  of  human 
life  thouofht  not  about  and  cared  not  for.     Put  the  con- 


^8  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

ception  of  God  entertained  by  most  of  the  old  Hebrew 
prophets  beside  that  conception  presented  by  Him 
who  spake  as  never  man  spake,  and  you  will  sec  the 
contrast  which  I  mean.  Not  that  those  old  Hebrew 
prophets  spoke  wrongly ;  but  they  spoke  comparatively 
youthfully  and  imperfectly.  Not  but  what  there  is  a 
true  meaning  in  that  which  they  said  about  God's 
being  "wroth,"  and  "jealous,"  and  His  being  "a  man 
of  war,"  and  of  His  "anger  with  the  wicked  every 
day,"  and  of  His  waiting  to  see  their  feet  "  slide  in  due 
time."  Far  be  it  from  me,  either  for  the  interests  of 
my  own  soul  or  of  yours,  my  hearers,  to  disguise  the 
solemn  truth  metaphorically  set  forth  in  a  hundred 
such  passages  as  those.  But  when  such  representa- 
tions are  put  beside  the  larger  and  riper  disclosures  of 
the  New  Testament,  and  especially  of  Christ's  own 
utterances,  wherein  He  sets  God  before  us,  not  under 
some  such  figure  of  kingship  or  judgeship  as  naturally 
appeals  to  a  ruder  and  more  lawless  period  of  human 
experience,  but  under  His  own  chosen  figure  of  divine 
Paternity,  we  feel  if  we  cannot  express,  we  know  if  we 
do  not  quite  dare  to  acknowledge,  that  there  is  a  tre- 
mendous difference.  • 

But  my  object  at  this  time  was  not  so  much  to  argue 
this  fact  of  a  fuller  and  riper  conception  of  God's  na- 
ture arising  from  the  characteristic  presentation  of  Him 
to  us  by  Christ  as  the  Father  of  men,  as  to  call  brief 
attention  to  some  inferences  from  this  conception 
itself  —  inferences  which  it  seems  to  me  are  full  of  in- 
struction and  of  comfort,  while  not  wanting  in  sugges- 
tions of  admonition  also. 

The  necessary  limitations  of  a  single  Sabbath  ser- 
vice counsel  me  to  say  only  a  very  little  of  what  might 


SERMONS. 


59 


be  said  on  this  subject  ;  and  I  shall  speak  of  but  two 
of  these  apparently  necessary  deductions  from  the 
Fatherliness  of  God's  character  of  which  we  are  think- 
ing at  this  time. 

One  of  these  inferences  is  the  necessary  kindliness 
and  generosity  of  God  in  dealing  with  all  his  creatures 
—  with  all  of  them,  I  say.  I  did  not  say  with  a  cer- 
tain favored  and  unalterable  number  of  them,  but  with 
all  of  them.  If  there  is  any  significance  in  fatherhood 
in  these  poor  human  lives  of  ours,  it  means  patience, 
kindliness,  generosity,  self-sacrifice,  does  it  not  ?  When 
we  speak  of  a  "fatherly  act,"  the  conception  which 
comes  up  to  mind  is  one  of  affection  and  attempted 
good  doing,  is  it  not .-' 

Now,  this  conception  which  we  have  borrowed  from 
these  imperfect  relationships  of  our  earthly  lives  Christ 
boldly  takes  hold  of  and  applies  to  the  relationship  of 
God  to  us.  And  He  does  not  limit  the  application  of 
this  conception  —  as  some  good  men  since  He  lived 
have  sometimes  done  —  to  such  only  as  recognize  and 
yield  to  the  reality  of  a  heavenly  tie.  Nay,  He  expli- 
citly affirms  the  existence  of  the  relationship,  and  its 
manifestation,  too,  in  the  case  of  others.  This  is  the 
very  ground  of  Christ's  appeal  to  us  in  His  great  Ser- 
mon on  the  Mount  to  become  like  our  Father  in 
heaven,  that  "  He  maketh  His  sun  to  rise  on  the  evil 
and  the  good,  and  sendeth  rain  on  the  just  and  the 
unjust."  The  conception  of  Fatherhood,  therefore,  in 
Christ's  use  of  it,  as  well  as  in  our  own  poor  imitative 
use  of  it  in  these  human  relationships,  which  borrow 
all  their  significance  from  that  older  and  diviner  rela- 
tionship from  which  "  every  fatherhood  in  heaven  and 
on  earth  is  named,"  must  involve  at  least  this  much  — 


6o  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

kindness,  generous  estimate,  willingness  to  do  the  ut- 
most possible  to  be  done  compatible  with  wisdom, 
righteousness,  and  the  interests  of  all,  for  the  welfare 
of  each  one,  the  very  last  and  least,  of  all  the  creatures 
—  all  the  children,  rather  —  He  has  made.  No  room 
here  for  some  awful  doctrines  which  have  found  place 
in  certain  theologies,  as  if  there  were  a  class  of  God's 
children  which  never  were  His  children ;  creatures 
made  for  the  very  purpose  of  being  renounced  and  cast 
away. 

The  Christian  world,  under  the  progressively  educa- 
tive power  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ's  own  life  and  words, 
is  not  only  passing  through  that  corporate  change 
wherethrough  I  said  the  individual  man  passes  from 
the  hastiness  and  severity  of  youth  to  the  tenderness 
and  allowance  of  age;  but,  beyond  that,  is,  I  think, 
entering  more  truly  into  the  deeper  spirit  of  the  Gos- 
pel itself  and  of  Christ,  the  chief  messenger  of  that 
Gospel.  It  is  drawing  its  formulating  conceptions  of 
the  divine  character  not  so  much,  as  it  has  done  in  the 
pa.st,  from  the  ideas  of  sovereignty  and  judgeship  and 
power,  but  from  that  larger  and  more  divine  idea  set 
forth  in  the  message  and  in  the  very  name  of  the  divine 
Son  —  the  Fatherliness  of  God. 

Blessed  and  auspicious  change!  Change  carrying 
with  it,  as  one  of  the  two  necessary  inferences  I  said 
were  suggested,  the  kindness  and  liberality  of  God  in 
dealing  with  all  his  creatures. 

The  other  inference  from  that  divine  Fatherliness 
which  our  text  assures  us  is  the  very  type  and  origin 
of  all  other  conceptions  of  fatherliness  among  men,  is 
the  inference  that  God  will  always  in  His  dealings 
with  His  creatures  seek  the  highest  good  of  each  one, 


SERMONS.  6l 

and  the  largest  welfare  of  all.  He  can  forget  neither 
of  these  endeavors  and  yet  retain  that  character  of 
Fatherliness  which  He  has  taught  us  to  cherish  and  to 
imitate  in  our  relations  with  one  another.  He  must 
choose  for  the  individual,  not  what  is  easiest,  perhaps, 
not  what  is  most  comfortable,  not  what  is  desirable, 
judged  by  some  temporary  and  material,  perhaps  some 
earthly  and  sensual,  standard ;  but  what  is  best.  That 
is  to  say,  God's  Fatherliness  must  make  Him  put  that 
supreme  which  is  supreme,  the  moral  and  spiritual 
welfare  of  each  one  of  His  children.  Everything  must 
be  subordinated  to  that.  If  that  can  be  had  and  other 
more  or  less  comfortable  things  can  be  had  also,  why 
then  those  more  or  less  comfortable  things  may  be 
expected.  But  if  that  cannot  be  had  except  at  the 
loss  of  the  lesser  good,  then  the  lesser  good  must  go. 

Nor  can  God  forget,  any  more  than  an  earthly  father 
can  forget,  the  confederated  character  of  His  family. 
He  must  have  in  view  the  welfare  of  His  whole  house- 
hold. He  cannot  overlook,  He  cannot  disregard,  what 
threatens  the  common  weal.  It  is  not  fatherliness 
here  in  these  little  family  groups  we  know  about  among 
ourselves,  to  permit  some  turbulent  and  incorrigible 
member  to  bring  annoyance  upon  the  whole  compan- 
ionship and  dishonor  upon  the  entire  family  name  by 
the  exercise  of  a  weak  and  indiscriminating  good  nature, 
and  disregard  of  obduracy  and  wrong.  That  is  some- 
times mistakenly  called  fatherliness.  But  it  is  not 
fatherliness  in  men.     Nor  is  it  in  God. 

That  God  is  the  Father  of  men  does  not  at  all  imply 
that  all  government  over  them  suffers  lapse,  that  all 
discipline  of  them  is  dropped  into  disuse,  that  all  sever- 
ity, even,  in  dealing  with  them  is  abandoned.     These 


62  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.U. 

are  not  thoughts  to  be  cast  aside  as  belonging  only  to 
a  theory  of  the  divine  relationship  to  men  which  is 
entertained  no  more.  If  any  chance  hearer  in  this 
house  to-day,  unaccustomed  to  the  general  strain  of 
teachings  from  this  desk,  has  seemed  to  gather  from  a 
former  portion  of  this  discourse  that  the  idea  of  the 
divine  Fatherhood  now  inculcated  lets  open  the  door  to 
a  weak  and  sentimental  view  of  God's  claims  and  man's 
responsibilities,  the  mistake  may  now  be  corrected. 
Indeed,  for  myself,  I  can  think  of  no  more  perfect  ideal 
of  thorough,  efficient  government,  of  persuasive  and 
effectual  penalties,  than  those  existent  in  a  true  fam- 
ily. When  I  look  back  on  that  household  group  of 
which  I  was  in  childhood  the  quick-tempered  and 
errant  member,  and  recall  the  grand,  regretful,  some- 
times austere  and  averted  countenance  of  my  father  at 
knowledge  of  my  wrong-doing,  and  the  saddened,  dis- 
appointed face  of  my  patient,  heroic  mother,  I  bring 
up  to  myself  a  picture  more  photographic  than  any  I 
can  discover  beside,  of  the  pain  there  would  be  in  the 
withdrawment  of  the  Heavenly  Parent's  smile,  and  the 
shutting  out  from  the  companionship  of  the  heavenly 
family.  It  was  not  the  chastising  stroke  —  though 
memory  of  such  on  some  occasions  still  survives  over 
the  lapse  of  so  many  years — but  it  was  the  sense  of 
fatherliness  and  motherliness,  grieved,  wounded,  and 
wronged,  which  was  then,  and  is  increasingly  still,  after 
nigh  a  half  century  has  fled,  the  keenest  factor  in  the 
discipline  of  my  trespass  on  the  household  weal  and 
law.  Ah  !  let  no  one  think  that  the  doctrine  of  the 
divine  Fatherliness  is  the  door-opener  to  loose  and 
careless  estimates  of  sin.  Let  it  not  be  imagined  that 
taking  Christ  at  His  word  and  believing  that  we  have 


SERMONS, 


63 


a  Father  in  heaven  is  to  make  men  inditferent  to  His 
claims.  It  is  not  so.  Speak  of  Him  as  judge  and 
men  may  seek  to  evade  His  sentence.  Represent  Him 
as  king  and  they  may  try  to  escape  the  reach  of  His 
power.  But  let  them  really  believe  that  God  is  their 
Father,  in  the  truest,  most  literal,  most  richly-freighted 
meaning  of  that  precious  name,  and  they  will  —  I  do 
not  say  that  they  will  certainly  turn  to  Him  with  con- 
trition and  penitence,  for  I  do  not  know  the  possible 
strength  of  human  sinfulness  and  perversity  —  but 
they  will  at  least  feel  an  attractiveness  in  His  charac- 
ter which  those  other  titles  alone  do  not  suggest,  and 
they  will  feel  a  culpability  in  themselves  which  cannot 
arise  from  the  mere  contemplation  of  some  single  attri- 
bute personifying  Him,  for  example,  as  justice  or 
power.  Certainly,  whatever  may  be  the  fact  in  any 
actual  case  as  a  practical  result,  nothing  can  be  so 
divinely  suited  to  bring  a  sinner  to  a  better  mind  as 
the  remembrance  that  all  that  he  knows  or  can  think 
of  in  true  Fatherliness  belongs  to  and  dwells  forever 
in  that  God  from  whom  those  conceptions  were  first 
derived,  and  who  teaches  us,  sinful  as  we  are,  to  come 
to  Him  with  the  cry,  "  Our  Father  which  art  in  heaven." 
If  he  refuses  the  overtures  of  a  Father,  what  possible 
rescue  can  there  be  for  him  ?  If  he  conducts  himself 
so  that  a  Father  —  for  the  household's  sake  —  must 
needs  shut  him  out  of  the  family  door,  what  power  can 
ever  bring  him  back  again  ? 

Yet  now,  just  before  I  close,  it  seems  to  me  I  hear 
some  one  say,  "  But  why,  if  God  is  our  Father,  does 
the  possibility  exist  that  any  child  of  His  should  ever 
become  alienated  from  Him  ;  that  sin,  trouble,  or 
pain  should  be  found  anywhere  in  a  world  of  which 


64  REVEREND    GEORGE    LKOX    WALKER.    D.D. 

He  is  the  Creator,  and  in  a  family  of  which  He  is  the 
parent  ?  " 

My  dear  questioning  friend,  if  such  a  questioner 
there  be  here,  I  do  not  know.  I  have  never  under- 
taken to  answer  that  problem.  There  are  inquiries  a 
child  may  make  which  even  a  philosopher  cannot 
answer.  And  before  this  inquiry  why  sin  and  evil 
were  ever  allowed  to  find  their  way,  with  all  their  train 
of  disastrous  consequences  to  individuals  and  to  the 
race,  into  this  family  circle  of  which  God  is  the  Father, 
the  whole  world  has  stood  questioning  and  perplexed 
from  the  beginning  till  now.  It  is  a  problem  which 
many  a  wise  theologian  has  attempted  to  solve,  but  the 
Bible  does  not  make  the  effort,  and  the  endeavors  of 
men  have  not  had  much  success.  Hotv  evil  came  into 
this  little  world  the  Scriptures  try  to  figure  forth  to  us 
on  one  of  the  Bible's  earliest  pages  ;  but  wJiy  it  was 
permitted  to  come,  I  do  not  find  that  the  Word  of 
God  makes  the  least  endeavor  anywhere  even  to  hint. 
But  it  is  here.  And  being  here  it  does  make  some 
difference,  I  think,  whether  we  think  of  it  as  being, 
with  all  its  mystery,  in  a  Father's  family,  or  in  the 
ranks  only  of  a  companionship  under  the  rule  of  mere 
intelligence  or  power.  Sin  is  here,  and  trouble  is  here, 
and  bereavement  and  suffering  are  here,  but  it  does 
matter  something  whether,  spite  of  them  all,  I  can 
still  believe  the  infinite  power  above  me,  whose  ways  I 
cannot  comprehend,  is  nevertheless  my  Father,  and 
not  merely  my  Sovereign  and  my  Judge. 

Ah  yes,  what  a  difference  !  I  cannot  understand  all 
my  Father's  ways,  but  if  I  can  believe  Him  my  Father 
still,  I  can  trust  Him  where  I  cannot  understand. 
He  may  frown  upon  me  for  my  sin;  but  I  shall  know 


SERMONS. 


65 


—  not  with  less  pain  indeed  on  my  part — that  it  is  a 
I'^ather's  frown.  He  may  suffer  me  to  be  tried  and 
perplexed  and  bereaved,  but  while  I  remember  that 
not  blind  fate,  not  mere  sovereign  power,  not  justice 
or  holiness,  even,  apart  from  parental  love,  but  that 
Fatherly  pity,  Fatherly  righteousness.  Fatherly  love 
are  concerned  in  my  welfare  I  shall  not  despair.  I 
shall  remember  the  name  by  which  He  calls  Himself. 
I  shall  think  that  all  that  I  know  of  fatherliness  in  this 
world  is  but  a  reflection  of  what  is  first  of  all  in  Him, 
and  I  shall  hold  on  to  the  belief  that  He  will  do  for  me 
all  that  a  wise  and  loving  Father  consistently  can  do, 
till  the  time  comes  when,  perhaps,  some  of  the  present 
mystery  of  existing  evil  and  of  human  trouble  may  be 
cleared  up,  and  the  day  break  and  the  shadow\s  flee 
away. 

Meantime,  dear  friends,  what  can  we  better  do  to 
gain  strength  for  present  duty,  encouragement  in  pres- 
ent perplexity,  comfort  even  in  any  present  distress, 
than  to  reinforce  and  confirm  in  ourselves  the  assur- 
ance—  so  often  affirmed  in  the  Word  of  God  —  that 
we  have  a  Father  in  Heaven  to  comfort  us  ;  a  Father 
to  whom  in  a  truer,  deeper,  more  abiding  sense  than 
any  we  have  ever  known  beside  that  blessed  name 
belongs,  "  The  Father  from  whom  every  fatherhood  in 
heaven  and  on  earth  is  named  ?  " 

•'O    Father-eye    that    hath    so    truly    watched. 
O    Father-hand    that    hath    so   gently   led. 
O    Father-heart    that    by   my   prayer   is    touched. 

That    loved    me    first    when    I    was    cold    and    dead  ; 

Still   do    Thou   lead   me   on   with    tender   care 

« 

Through    narrow    ways   wherein    1    ought   to   go ; 
And    train    me    for   that    home    I    am    to    share. 

Alike    through    love    and    loss,  and    weal    and    woe." 

5 


66  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 


II. 

DIVINE  CALLS.* 

Genesis  xii  :  i. 

Now  the  Lord  had  said  unto  Abram,  Get  thee  out  of  thy  coun- 
try^ andfro7n  thy  kmdred,  andfrofn  thy  father's  house,  unto 
a  land  that  I  will  show  thee. 

I  Samuel  hi:  io. 

And  the  Lord  came,  and  stood,  and  called  as  at  other  times,  Sam- 
uel, Samuel.  Then  Samuel  answered.  Speak;  for  thy  ser- 
vant heareth. 

John  x  :  3. 

And  he  calleth  his  own  sheep  by  name,  and  leadeth  them  out. 
Hebrews  hi:  i. 

Wherefore,  holy  brethren,  partakers  of  the  heavenly  calling,  con- 
sider the  Apostle  and  High  Priest  of  our  profession,  Christ 
fesus. 

It  is  not  a  merely  arbitrary  association  which  has 
gathered  these  four  verses  of  Scripture  together  from* 
the  various  and  widely  separated  places  in  which  they 
are  found  in  Holy  Writ. 

Not,  indeed,  but  what  a  good  many  others  might 
properly  have  been  associated  with  them,  as  equally 
belonging  in  the  same  category  and  as  teaching  the 
same  truth.  But  I  have  selected  these  four  as  ade- 
quately illustrative  specimens  of  their  kind.  As  a 
mineralogist    might    take  up  specimens  of   malachite 


♦Written  in  i( 


SERMONS.  67 

or  of  beryl  and  say,  "This  specimen  came  from  Rus- 
sia; this  from  Japan  ;  this  from  Alaska,  and  this  from 
Brazil ;  but  they  all  belong  together,  and  belong  to 
multitudes  of  other  specimens  which  might  be  associ- 
ated with  them,  because  they  have  the  same  structural 
character  and  component  elements  ;  "  so  I  take  these 
four  wide-sundered  passages  of  Scripture  as  one  in 
their  moral  import  and  instruction  to  us  who  read  them 
to-day.  And  what  is  that  truth  of  which  these  various 
Scriptures  tell  us  ?  It  is  a  truth  which  I  fear  we  have 
some  way  come  to  think  a  kind  of  far-off,  historical. 
Scripture-time  matter,  instead  of  being,  what  indeed  it 
is,  a  matter  of  most  immediate,  personal,  and  practical 
concern  to  us  all :  the  truth,  that  is,  of  a  Divine  Call 
to  individual  souls. 

We  read,  for  example,  of  God's  call  to  Abram  to 
leave  his  country  and  go  out  into  a  strange  land ;  or  of 
God's  call  to  Moses  to  leave  his  sheep-tending  in  Mid- 
ian  and  to  go  into  Pharaoh's  palace  and  command  him 
to  let  his  captive  Israelites  go;  or  of  God's  call  to 
Samuel,  or  David,  or  Solomon,  or  Isaiah,  or  John  the 
Apostle,  or  Paul, —  and  some  way  we  think  the  majesty 
of  the  fact  fits  in  with  the  dignity  of  the  circum- 
stances ;  and  therefore  we  vaguely  assent  to  the  ideal- 
ity of  the  alleged  event.  But  when  it  comes  to  rec- 
ognizing the  reality  of  Divine  Calls  as  a  part  of  indi- 
vidual, present  experience  ;  when  it  comes  to  applying 
the  plain  implications  and  statements  of  Scripture  such 
as  "My  sheep  hear  my  voice,"  or  "  He  calleth  his  own 
sheep  by  name  and  leadeth  them  out,"  to  the  living 
experiences  of  living  men  and  women,  in  the  midst  of 
the  rush  and  bustle  of  our  common  affairs  there  is,  I 
fear,  some  hesitation  about  the  matter. 


(38  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

Yet,  my  friends,  if  the  door  has  ever  been  open  be- 
tween heaven  and  earth,  why  should  it  not  stay  open  ? 
If  God  has  ever  made  personal  communications  of  His 
Vv^ill  to  men,  why  should  He  not  make  them  now  ? 
Was  life  ever  more  perplexed  than  it  often  is  still  ? 
Were  souls  ever  more  in  need  of  heavenly  leadershi]:) 
than  they  are  to-day  ? 

And  it  is  not  without  its  mighty  and  practical  sig- 
nificance in  encouraging  cind  helping  us  to  accept  and 
rely  on  this  fact  of  Divine  communications  to  men 
which  Scripture  everywhere  alleges  and  implies,  that 
the  Word  of  God  is  so  reserved  in  its  statements  about 
the  method  of  those  communications  of  which  it  spe- 
cifically tells  us  in  the  past.  For  example,  we  read 
concerning  the  call  of  Abram  :  "  And  the  Lord  sat'd 
unto  Abram."  What  does  that  mean  ?  Did  Abram 
see  a  vision  .-'  Did  he  hear  an  audible  voice  ?  In  what 
way  was  that  divine  command  impressed  upon  the 
mind  of  the  patriarch  that  he  was  to  get  out  of  his 
country  and  his  father's  house  .^  We  cannot  tell. 
How  did  God  "  talk  "  with  Moses  at  the  burning  bush  .-' 
What  is  meant  when  it  is  said  of  the  call  to  Samuel, 
"The  Lord  came  and  stood  as  at  other  times  "  ?  De- 
tails are  in  all  cases  suppressed.  Had  we  had  in  these 
cases  definite,  elaborate  depictions  of  how  it  was  that 
God  came  to,  and  made  Himself  understood  by,  Abram 
and  Moses  and  Samuel  and  Isaiah,  we  should  find  our- 
selves continually  trying  to  test  the  reality  of  any  pres- 
ent experiences  of  heavenly  suggestion  and  call  by 
their  correspondence  with  the  outward  circumstances 
and  manner, —  that  is  to  say,  the  mere  outward  acci- 
dents,—  of  the  historic  calls  of  the  past.  Grant  once 
that  heaven's  door  is  open  toward  earth  ;  grant  once 


SERMONS. 


69 


that  God  has  made  communications  of  His  will  to  men  ; 
and  there  is  no  improbability  in  supposing  that  His 
summons  come  continually.  There  is  no  troul^le  about 
the  methods  of  their  coming.  All  possible  things  may 
become  instruments  and  vehicles  of  suggestion  and 
teaching  to  beings  whom  God  has  once  undertaken  to 
lead  and  bless. 

Xhe  great  trouble  about  the  realization  and  appro- 
priation of  Divine  calls  to  men  is  owing  to  the  low  and 
dull  views  of  all  spiritual  relationships  between  heaven 
and  earth,  between  God  and  men,  into  which  the 
Church  has  permitted  itself  to  fall.  The  great  truth 
underlying  the  movement  in  religious  history  repre- 
sented two  centuries  and  more  ago  by  the  Quakers, 
and  which  has  been  again  and  again  championed  by 
some  body  of  Christian  people  when  the  Church  has 
fixed  its  eyes  too  exclusively  on  the  Bible  as  the  source 
of  all  its  spiritual  light,  and  on  a  historic  Saviour  as 
the  source  of  all  its  life, —  the  truth  that  God  no%v 
moves  on  human  hearts,  now  breathes  into  and  guides 
His  children,  that  Christ's  sheep  still  hear  His  voice, 
- —  is  a  truth  which  we  ourselves  need  more  vividly  to 
realize.  It  is  a  truth,  however,  not  so  much  for  intel- 
lectual assent  as  for  practical  appropriation.  There- 
fore, turning  away  from  any  further  argument  about  it 
as  a  matter  to  be  accepted  or  set  in  its  proper  place  in 
a  religious  system,  let  us  see  for  a  few  practical  mo- 
ments how  we  ourselves  may  reasonably  expect  to  re- 
ceive, and  how  we  ought  to  treat  the  calls  of  God  to 
us. 

How,  then,  may  we  expect  to  hear  God's  calls .? 

If  there  were  any  necessity,  in  order  that  intimations 
of  the  Divine  will  should  be  conveyed  to  us  for  our 


yo  RKVERl'-.ND    GEORCE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

Spiritual  guidance,  that  a  voice  from  heaven  should 
speak  to  us,  or  that  a  burning  bush  should  attract  our 
notice,  why  then,  I  think,  all  we  know  of  our  Father  in 
Heaven  and  of  His  substantial  interest  in  our  concerns 
might  fairly  encourage  us  to  look  for  some  such  out- 
ward visibilities  or  audibilities  as  those.  But  God  has 
hundreds  of  ways  of  drawing  near  to  us  beside  any 
such.  Indeed,  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  methods 
of  divine  communication  to  men  which  in  the  child- 
hood of  time  were  best  for  the  solitary  patriarch  on 
the  Chaldean  plains,  or  for  the  prophetic  child  sleep- 
ing uneasily  behind  the  Tabernacle  veil  would  plainly 
not  be  best  now.  Those  were  days  when  life  was 
comparatively  solitary  ;  writing  almost  unknown ; 
communication  between  even  adjacent  sections  of 
country  slow,  accidental,  unnecessary.  Religious  events 
were  handed  down  in  tradition  ;  by  oral  transit  from 
generation  to  generation  ;  or  gathered  slowly  up  in 
some  chronicle  of  Levite  or  seer,  perhaps  the  only  man 
in  a  thousand  who  knew  how  to  write  his  name.  What 
if,  in  our  day  of  newspapers  and  the  universal  approxi- 
mation of  all  places  to  one  another,  methods  of  divine 
communication  we  can  easily  conceive  to  be  suited  to 
such  an  infancy  of  society,  should  be  the  only  possible 
methods,  and  the  telegraph  should  tell  us  each  morn- 
ing of  some  burning  bush  in  Sumatra,  South  America, 
or  Italy ;  some  voice  out  of  the  skies  heard  at  London, 
Berlin,  or  Paris;  some  ascension  of  an  Elijah  at  Mos-- 
cow,  Calcutta,  or  New  York,  what  a  Babel  this  world 
would  be,  even  supposing  every  thus  narrated  incident 
were  a  veritable  matter  of  divine  interposal  in  human 
affairs ! 

The  fact  seems  to  be  that  —  apart  from  that  volume 


SERMONS.  71 

of  inspired  truth  which  is  in  great  degree  a  record  of 
God's  dealings  with  men  in  the  past ;  and  apart  from 
those  occasional,  personal,  immediate  persuasions  or 
illuminations  of  the  Divine  Spirit  which  Scripture 
promises  and  the  Christian  experience  of  almost  every 
devout  heart  more  or  less  fully  confirms, —  apart  from 
these  things,  I  say, —  the  main  instrument  of  God's 
impression  of  His  will  upon  men  is  the  providential 
occurrences  of  life.  He  brings  Himself  near  to  us  in 
the  ordering  of  events  concerning  us.  That  tangled, 
mysterious,  ever-changeful  web  of  "happenings"  —  as 
we  call  them, —  by  which  we  are  enveloped,  and  which 
cannot  be  explained  or  unraveled  except  by  the  recog- 
nition of  a  heavenly  hand  in  matters  great  or  small, — 
that  is  the  commonest  of  the  instrumentalities  which 
God  employs  to  teach  men  of  Himself.  Doubtless  He 
adds  (as  I  only  a  moment  ago  intimated)  other  and 
more  spiritual  suggestions  of  His  presence  to  those 
who  are  sensitive  to  them  or  watchful  for  them.  But 
even  without  these,  what  a  marvellously  complex  and 
powerful  instrumentality  for  coming  near  to  men,  and 
making  Himself  felt  by  them,  that  is,  which  is  found 
in  the  providential  occurrences  of  life  !  Think  of  the 
continual  unexpectedness  of  these  events  of  Provi- 
dence ;  of  the  irresistibility  of  their  power  over  us  in 
their  coming  ;  of  the  infinite  variety  of  their  character! 
They  range  all  the  way  from  our  keenest  joy  to  our 
severest  sorrow  ;  from  our  sweetest  hope  to  our  bitter- 
est disappointment.  They  lay  their  guiding  or  their 
persuasive  hands  upon  us  at  every  turn,  and  give  us  at 
every  moment  the  opportunity  of  recognizing  the 
power  which  is  dealing  with  us,  and  of  considering, 
at  least,  the  purposes  of  that  heavenly  will. 


72  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

Those  of  you,  my  friends,  who  look  back  over  any 
considerable  pathway  of  experience,  marked  by  life's 
common  changes  and  events, —  its  gains  and  its  losses  ; 
its  bestowals  and  its  bereavements  ;  its  births  and  its 
burials;  its  bridals  and  its  funerals, —  have  you  not 
had  reason  to  recognize  the  closeness  of  a  divine 
approach  to  you  ?  Did  Matthew,  sitting  at  his  place 
of  toll,  when  a  passing  stranger  said  "  follow  me,"  or 
Samuel,  stirred  at  midnight  by  a  voice  calling  him  by 
name,  receive  a  more  definite  summons  to  a  new  and 
different  life,  than  some  of  you  have  met  in  the  touch 
on  your  souls  of  some  of  life's  events  which  have 
befallen  you  ?  You  have  had  your  heavenly  calls, 
most  of  you.  Not  Moses  or  Jeremiah  more  surely, 
however  differently.  When  you  buried  your  father  or 
your  child  ;  when  your  husband's  face  was  hid  from 
you  forever ;  when  the  pleasure  or  the  business  suc- 
cess you  thought  so  close  vanished  in  a  moment  ;  when 
you  were  brought  into  connection  with  some  person 
whose  life  gave  you  a  glimpse  of  a  nobler  life  than 
yours  ;  when  some  flash  of  divine  truth  shot  in  upon 
you  with  unwonted  power, —  then  a  call,  sweet  or  sol- 
emn, but  personal,  immediate,  meant  for  you  and 
intended  for  your  good,  sounded  in  your  soul,  and  gave 
assurance  of  One  nigh  to  you  as  ever  God  was  nigh  to 
prophet  of  old.  Ah  !  you  have  many  of  you  felt  this  ! 
And  when  you — some  of  you  certainly  —  are  able  to 
add  to  this  common  general  experience  of  the  comings 
nigh  to  us  of  God  in  His  providence.  His  comings 
nigh  in  some  measure  at  least,  with  those  inward  sug- 
gestions of  His  Spirit,  also,  which  illuminate  His 
Word,  or  prompt  your  prayer,  what  need  you  more 
to  assure  you  of  a  "heavenly  call,"  as  a  part  of  your 


SERMONS. 


73 


personal  experience  ?  Would  sights  of  a  burning 
bush,  or  of  an  axe  that  did  not  sink,  or  of  a  stick  that 
became  a  serpent,  or  the  straightening  of  a  palsied  arm, 
really  add  anything  to  the  substantial  persuasion  of 
vour  hearts  that  God  had  come  nigh  unto  you  ? 

Convinced  thus,  I  trust,  of  the  reality  of  the  calls  of 
God  to  us  as  a  part  of  actual,  and,  indeed,  in  some  de- 
gree of  universal  experience,  the  very  important 
further  question  arises  :  How  are  we  to  treat  them  ? 

And  here  it  seems  to  me,  the  records  of  old  time 
are  exceedingly  instructive.  There  was,  (even  the 
meager  chronicles  of  Biblical  story  show  us  that,)  there 
was  a  vast  diversity  in  the  way  in  which  the  old-time 
calls  came  to  men.  But  there  was  no  diversity  in  tiie 
moral  action  consequent  upon  their  reception.  Recog- 
nition and  obedience,  these  were  the  responses  of  the 
devout  hearts  of  ancient  story,  whose  co-operation  with 
the  divine  will,  in  some  high  enterprise  of  duty  or  of 
blessing,  has  made  their  lives  luminous  with  instruc- 
tion for  all  after  times.  When  Abram  on  those  far 
Chaldean  plains  became  once  aware  of  the  divine  will 
to  get  him  out  of  his  country  and  from  his  father's 
house,  he  "obeyed  and  went  out,"  albeit  he  "knew  not 
whither  he  went."  When  Moses  received  the  com- 
mand to  go  into  that  Egypt  from  which  he  had  fled  in 
peril  of  his  life,  he  went.  When  the  word  of  the 
Lord  concerning  the  captivity  of  Judah  came  to  Jere- 
miah, he  spoke  that  word  in  the  ears  of  the  king  and 
princes  of  Judah,  albeit  he  knew  that  a  dungeon  and 
abuse  would  be  the  reward  of  his  fidelity.  When  the 
voice  came  to  Peter  and  Andrew  by  the  Galilean  sea, 
"  Come  ye  after  me,"  they  left  their  nets,  and  fol- 
lowed  the    Master.      When    the   arresting   light   and 


74  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

power  of  heaven  struck  down  Paul  on  his  way  to 
Damascus,  he  was  "not  disobedient  unto  the  heavenly 
vision,"  but  asked  in  submission,  "  What  shall  I  do  ?  " 
Not  but  what,  in  some  most  conspicuous  instances 
recorded  in  Holy  Writ,  there  was  hesitation  and  some 
degree  of  self  distrust  at  first,  in  obeying  the  heavenly 
summons.  It  is  told  us,  and  herein  I  think  we  have  a 
very  tender  and  beautiful  token  of  the  divine  consider- 
ation of  us,  that  the  fact  is  recorded,  it  is  told  us  how 
even  Moses  argued  with  the  Lord  his  unfitness  for  the 
work  to  which  God  called  him  ;  and  Isaiah  protested 
his  insufficiency  for  the  task  laid  upon  him  ;  and  Ana- 
nias tried  to  excuse  himself  from  the  duty  of  visiting 
that  blood-thirsty  man  Saul,  whom  God  told  him  to 
seek  out  and  to  comfort. 

But  the  thing  to  be  noticed  is  that,  however  any  of 
those  old  servants  of  God  hesitated  or  questioned  at 
first,  they  obeyed.  That  was  what  gave  them  their 
place  in  religious  history.  However  conscious  of  per- 
sonal imperfection,  however  overwhelmed  with  the 
sense  of  mighty  and  well-nigh  annihilating  responsi- 
bilities laid  on  them,  when  once  really  convinced  of 
the  divine  will  they  yielded  to  that  will  ;  they  made 
that  will  their  own  ;  they  went  forward  doing  it  to 
the  inimortality  of  earthly  history  and  the  immortality 
of  eternal  life.  Had  they  done  otherwise,  had  they 
declined  even  the  seeming-impossible  service,  never 
would  their  names  have  been  recorded  for  our  guid- 
ance, or  written  in  the  Book  of  Heaven  to  their  own 
everlasting  joy.  That  they  sometimes  a  moment  fal- 
tered is  told  us  for  our  consolation  in  our  weakness. 
That  they  consecratedly  and  fully  obeyed  is  told  us 
also,  as  the  condition  of  their  and  our  welfare. 


SERMONS. 


75 


All  which,  my  friends,  seems  to  me  profoundly 
instructive  as  to  our  treatment  of  our  heavenly  calls. 
The  voice  of  God  in  His  providence  does  sometimes 
seem  to  speak  pretty  trying  things  to  hear.  It  directs 
to  duties  hard  to  fulfill.  It  bids  us  bear  burdens  hard 
to  carry  ;  undertake  labors  difficult  to  perform  ;  endure 
sorrows  wearisome  to  sustain.  To  get  out  of  one's 
own  familiar  country  to  a  strange  land  is  not  altogether 
an  easy  matter,  even  if  that  familiar  country  should 
happen  to  be  Sodom. 

Bunyan's  "  Christian  "  had  a  hard  time  of  it  getting 
away  even  from  the  "  City  of  Destruction  "  and  the  com- 
panionship of  people  who  were  very  shortly  to  be  alto- 
gether burned  up.  But,  hard  or  easy,  our  safety  and 
our  joy  also  is  in  yielding  to  the  heavenly  call.  Recog- 
nition and  obedience  —  these  are  the  attitudes  com- 
mended to  us  by  all  the  examples  recorded  in  Holy 
Writ,  and  by  all  the  scarcely  less  illustrious  or  author- 
itative examples  of  Christian  history  since  the  book  of 
Scripture  closed. 

"  How  can  I  bear  this  burden  ?  How  can  I  take  up 
this  responsibility  ?  How  can  I  go  forth  on  this  enter- 
prise, not  knowing  whither  I  go  ? "  Language  like 
this  has  been  the  utterance  of  many  a  Christian  suf- 
ferer, many  a  Christian  laborer,  to  whom  the  call  of 
God  has  in  some  way  come.  But  listening  to  that 
voice,  submitting  to  the  will  which  appoints  the  sorrow, 
imposes  the  task,  directs  the  way,  courage  has  come 
for  the  enterprise,  strength  for  the  toil,  patience  for 
the  grief  ;  and  the  experience  of  Scripture  prophets 
and  heroes  has  been  repeated  in  thousands  of  our 
common  lives. 

Which  leads  easily  to  one  further  and  most  impor- 


j^  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER.    D.D. 

tant  suggestion  concerning  this  matter  of  heavenly 
calls. 

What  a  satisfaction  it  is,  anyway,  even  if  the  provi- 
dential voice  which  speaks  to  us  sometimes  says  things 
which  are  hard  to  hear,  that  it  does  speak  ! 

How  infinitely  preferable  in  that  tangled  web  of  cir- 
cumstance in  which  we  are  enveloped  and  of  which 
we  .sometimes  seem  to  be  only  a  helpless  part,  that 
there  should  be  tokens  of  a  high  and  heavenly  purpose 
concerning  us,  even  if  manifested  sometimes  in  severe 
and  painful  ways,  rather  than  that  life  should  float 
easily  on  with  us  with  no  proof  of  a  recognizing  will 
above  us,  and  no  evidence  of  a  Father's  hand  in  our 
affairs. 

There  may,  possibly,  be  persons  so  materialized  in 
heart,  and  so  contented  with  what  contents  a  mere 
animal,  that  life  has  for  them  no  hungers  for  anything 
better.  But  for  most  of  us,  I  am  sure,  the  thing  which 
makes  life  a  possession  of  worth  and  dignity  to  us,  is 
the  tokens  of  divinity  there  are  in  it.  It  is  the  evi- 
dence that  I  can  find  in  my  life  that  my  God  is  deal- 
ing with  me;  caring  for  me;  has  His  gracious  plans 
concerning  me,  which  keeps  me  in  self-respect  and  sets 
a  value  on  my  days.  Leave  me  to  myself,  with  no 
Father  above  to  care  for  me,  and  no  Spirit  of  Grace 
to  deal  with  me,  and  no  sequent  and  resultant  future 
to  which  all  the  present  leads  on,  and  what  is  life 
worth .'' 

I  may  have  my  pleasures  as  the  animals  do,  I  may 
accumulate  my  little  store  as  do  the  squirrels  and  the 
ants,  I  may  form  one  of  an  insignificant  confederacy 
somewhat  higher  than  the  beaver  or  the  ape,  with 
somewhat  larger  knowledge  and  somewhat  more  intelli- 


SERMONS.  77 

gent  aims,  but  unless  there  is  the  infinite  difference 
of  a  moral  relationship  between  m.e  and  God, —  unless 
God  is  my  Father  in  such  sense  as  He  is  not  to  them  ; 
unless  He  can  touch  me,  and  I  can  go  to  Him  ;  unless 
I  can  feel  that  the  door  is  open  between  me  and  Him, 
and  that  He  has  purposes  of  power  and  grace  which 
He  is  working  out  with  me  and  helping  me  to  work 
out  with  Him  —  then — however  others  feel,  I  care 
not  how  soon  the  curtain  of  silence  falls  on  this  scene 
of  things.  In  the  eclipse  of  that  great  elevating  hope, 
there  is  nothing  that  is  not  eclipsed.  What  is  left  of 
life  after  that  great  joy  and  confidence  is  gone  out  of 
it,  is  a  thing  of  rags.  What  we  want,  my  friends,  is 
not  less  but  more  of  God-tokens  in  our  lives !  The 
thing  we  ought  to  pray  for  is  not  fewer  but  more  of 
the  heavenly  calls.  It  is  those  calls  which  keep  us  in 
mind  of  our  dignity  and  our  destiny.  It  is  by  the  fre- 
quent hearing  of  them  that  we  are  kept  out  of  the 
mire  of  our  selfishness,  our  vanity,  our  mere  animalism 
and  death. 

More  and  more  to  remind  us  of  our  prerogative  as 
the  children  of  God  and  of  the  high  purposes  of  our 
Father  in  heaven  concerning  us,  should  we  be  watch- 
ful for  the  voices  of  God's  providence  in  our  lives. 
Realizing  the  importance  to  us,  above  all  things  beside, 
of  the  consciousness  of  God's  nearness  to  us,  and  of 
His  interest  in  our  welfare,  we  may  well  make  it  our 
prayer,  as  it  was  the  Psalmist's  of  old  :  "Be  not  silent 
to  me,"  O  God:  "Be  not  silent  to  me:  lest  if  Thou 
be  silent  to  me  I  become  like  them  that  go  down  into 
the  pit." 

■•  Speak   to    me    Lord,    Thyself   reveal 

While   here   on   earth    I    rove ; 
Speak   Thou   to    me  and   let   me   feel 

The    kindling   of    Thy   love." 


•jS  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 


III. 

CHRIST'S    INVITATION.* 

John  vh  :  37. 

//!  the  last  day,  that  great  day  of  the  feast,  Jesus  stood  and  cried, 
saying,  If  any  7)ian  thirst,  let  him  come  unto  me,  and  drink. 

Call  up  a  moment,  as  far  as  we  can,  through  the 
mists  of  eighteen  centuries,  the  scene  when  these 
words  were  spoken  ! 

The  place  was  Jerusalem.  The  time  was  the  autumn 
of  the  year.  The  occasion  was  the  Feast  of  Taberna- 
cles. For  seven  days,  now,  the  inhabitants  of  the  city 
and  multitudes  from  the  country  had  been  living  in  lit- 
tle booths  or  huts  made  of  the  boughs  of  myrtle  and 
palm  and  olive  trees.  These  huts  were  to  be  seen 
everywhere.  They  were  on  housetops ;  in  the  court 
of  the  Temple  ;  along  the  street-sides  ;  wherever  nes- 
tling-place could  be  found  for  them.  The  purpose  of 
the  festival  of  Tabernacles  was  twofold :  it  was  a 
thanksgiving  for  harvest,  and  it  was  a  memorial  of  the 
time  when  the  Israelites  dwelt  in  tents,  in  their  pas- 
sage through  the  wilderness.  The  feast  was  one  of 
special  joyfulness.  The  people  were  dressed  in  their 
holiday  attire.  Each  carried  in  his  hand  the  branch 
of  some  plant  attractive  for  its  beauty  or  its  fragrance. 


*  Written  in  1871,  with  large  use  of  a  sermon  written  in  i860 
on  the  same  text. 


SERMONS.  79 

The  altar  in  the  Temple  was  dressed  out  with  garlands 
of  willow,  of  which  each  worshiper  was  expected  to 
bring  one.  The  offerings  on  the  altar  were  more 
abundant  than  those  of  any  other  festival  of  the  year. 

But  the  enthusiasm  of  the  occasion  seems  to  have 
concentrated  itself  mainly  on  two  transactions,  each  of 
them  occurring  daily.  One  of  these  was  the  pouring 
out,  every  morning,  in  the  Temple  courts,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  gathered  multitude,  of  a  golden  ewer  of 
water  brought  from  the  Pool  of  Siloam,  and  which  typ- 
ified the  water  miraculously  supplied  to  their  fathers, 
in  the  desert,  at  the  rock  of  Meribah. 

The  other  was  the  lighting,  in  the  evening,  of  some 
great  lamps,  which,  from  their  elevation  on  the  Tem- 
ple-hill, cast  their  radiance  over  the  whole  city,  and 
were  intended  to  symbolize  the  fiery  pillar  of  the 
ancient  wilderness. 

Both  of  these  incidents,  each  day  repeated,  were 
events  preluded  by  the  sound  of  trumpets,  and  fol- 
lowed by  singing  and  general  rejoicings. 

It  is,  however,  with  only  the  first  of  these  two  cere- 
monies that  we  are  now  specially  concerned.  But  this, 
on  this  eighth  morning,  asks  our  notice. 

Interest  in  the  festival,  and  especially  in  this  strik- 
ing incident  of  it,  has  been,  as  usual,  deepening  from 
day  to  day.  And  now  the  last  day  —  what  the  Evan- 
gelist calls  emphatically  the  "great  day  " — of  the  cel- 
ebration has  come. 

The  crowds  are  gathered  in  the  Temple  area.  The 
morning  sacrifice  is  smoking  upon  the  altar.  Presently 
there  is  a  sudden  blast  from  a  chorus  of  silver  trum- 
pets ;  and  one  of  the  priests  advances  bearing  the 
golden  ewer.     He  ascends    the   brazen   steps  of   the 


8o  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

altar.  In  the  sight  of  all  the  people  he  pours  the  lim- 
pid stream  over  the  altar's  edge,  as  fifteen  centuries 
before,  in  the  thirsty  wilderness,  the  flowing  current 
which  had  saved  the  people's  life  had  trickled  from 
the  smitten  rock.  As  the  water  falls  into  the  silver 
basin  at  the  altar's  foot,  the  multitude  breaks  into 
song.  It  is  the  one  hundred  and  eighteenth  Psalm 
which  they  sing, —  that  Psalm  whose  constantly  recur- 
ring burden  is,  "  O  give  thanks  unto  the  Lord  ;  for 
He  is  good  ;  because  His  mercy  endureth  forever." 
A  hush  follows  the  conclusion  of  the  Psalm.  The  peo- 
ple's minds  have  been  touched  and  raised  by  contem- 
plation of  this  memorial  of  their  nation's  old  deliver- 
ance from  death  by  thirst ;  perhaps  some  of  them  have 
been  lifted  to  the  thought  of  a  supply  of  needs  more 
spiritual ;  of  wants  common  to  their  fathers  and  to 
them. 

It  is  in  the  hush  of  this  supreme  moment,  probably, 
that  a  clear,  sweet  voice  breaks  the  silence.  It  comes 
not  from  the  priests  gathered  near  the  altar.  It  is  a 
young  man  standing  among  the  multitudes,  on  the 
common  floor  of  the  Temple  court,  whose  voice  sounds 
out  over  the  hushed  and  astonished  assembly.  And 
what  is  it  that  He  says  }  The  words  are  as  startling 
as  the  occasion  of  their  utterance. 

"  If  any  man  thirst  "  —  this  is  the  strange  cry  which 
peals  over  the  astonished  multitude — "If  any  man 
thirst,  let  him  come  unto  Me,  and  drink."  More  than 
eighteen  hundred  years,  my  hearers,  have  passed  since 
this  saying  broke  the  silence  of  that  autumnal  festival. 
Hut  not  a  day  since  has  gone  which  has  not  borne  its 
testimony  to  the  truthfulness  and  the  importance  of 
the  announcement  there  made. 


SERMONS.  Sr 

Some  who  heard  it  first,  accepted  it  there  and  then. 
And  they  said,  This  is  indeed  "the  Christ."  But  ever 
since,  in  every  age  of  the  world,  the  number  has  been 
increasing  of  those  who  have  heard  the  invitation  and 
have  found  its  offer  true.  "  Come  unto  Me  and  drink  ; " 
"  whatever  your  want,  look  to  Me  for  its  supply  "  —  that 
was  the  utterance  which  sounded  over  the  Temple 
multitude.  And  it  is  an  utterance  which  has  never 
died.  From  generation  to  generation  it  has  sounded 
still, —  not  merely  in  men's  ears,  but  in  the  experience 
of  many  of  their  hearts. 

Christ  has  been  found  the  supply  of  need.  He  has 
met  the  deepest  wants  of  men.  The  thirst  of  the  soul, 
—  that  old,  spiritual  thirst  which  has  taken  hold,  at 
times,  on  every  thoughtful  individual  of  our  race, — 
has  been  satisfied,  and  may  still  be  satisfied  by  Christ, 
as  from  no  other  source  beside. 

Glance  with  me  a  few  minutes  at  some  of  those 
common  wants  of  men, —  your  wants,  my  wants, —  to 
which  the  offer  of  Christ  has  been  found  a  supply. 

Knowledge,  then,  is  one  of  these  common  wants. 
There  is  a  thirst  in  the  human  soul  for  knowledge  — 
knowledge  respecting  its  own  destinies  and  the  rela- 
tions in  which  it  stands  in  the  universe,  which  He  who 
said  "Come  unto  Me"  can  alone  satisfy. 

I  do  not  forget  that  there  is  a  very  wide  range  of 
important  knowledge,  to  which  the  faculties  of  men 
are,  in  a  sense,  competent  of  themselves.  I  do  not 
disregard,  nor  do  I  underrate,  the  greatness  of  those 
natural  powers  —  divinely  bestowed  on  man  —  by 
which  he  grapples  successfully  with  a  thousand  diffi- 
cult problems  of  the  world  in  Avhich  he  is.  We  live  in 
a  period  of  time  when  the  splendor  of  these  native  en- 
6 


82  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

dowments  of  the  human  intellect  is  receiving  constant 
illustration.  We  see  it  in  those  unfoldings  of  physical 
science  which  are  almost  making  this  a  new  world,  so 
rich,  so  manifold  are  the  wonders  which  are  daily  re- 
vealing to  our  eyes.  We  see  it  in  that  enthusiasm  of 
historic  investigation  which  has  shrunk  at  no  toil  in 
order  carefully  to  discriminate  and  bring  before  us  of 
this  modern  time  the  accurate  reality  of  ages  long  gone 
by.  We  see  it  in  the  marvelous  dexterity  of  mechanic 
art  —  which  is  but  knowledge  discovered  and  applied 
to  affairs  —  and  whose  triumphs  of  ingenuity  are  net- 
ting the  earth  over  with  telegraphs  and  railroads,  and 
dotting  the  whole  globe  with  factories  and  laboratories 
of  every  name.  The  power  of  the  human  mind  to 
search  out  knowledge  in  many  of  its  departments,  and 
by  that  search  wonderfully  to  enlighten  and  beneiit  the 
race,  is  a  power  we  need  have  no  jealousy  in  acknowl- 
edging. 

But  with  equal  freedom  does  it  become  us  to  admit 
that  there  are  other  departments  of  knowledge, —  and 
of  knowledge  vastly  more  essential  to  personal  welfare, 
—  to  which  our  natural  powers  are  not  competent,  and 
concerning  which  understanding  must  come  to  us,  if  it 
come  at  all,  from  another  source.  For  the  great  prob- 
lems are  not  those  of  History  or  of  Science  or  of  Mech- 
anism. Not  to  academies,  however  learned,  is  it  given 
to  supply  the  deepest  necessities  of  the  soul.  Science 
may  sound  the  seas,  but  it  has  no  plummet  to  tell  us 
the  depth  of  a  man's  spiritual  want.  History  may  re- 
veal to  us  something  of  the  process  of  outward  events 
in  ages  past,  —  but  my  own  future  .■*  That  is  another 
affair  on  which  no  History  casts  irradiating  light. 
God's  ways  with  matter  I  may  in  a  measure  discover ; 


SERMONS.  83 

but  His  ways  with  me  are  of  more  account,  and  here 
human  speculation  leaves  me  ignorant. 

Where  am  I  to  be,  a  few  fleeting  years  hence  .-* 
What  condition  is  to  enfold  me,  and  by  what  circum- 
stances is  that  condition  to  be  modified,  if  by  any.?  In 
what  relation  do  I  stand  to  that  Power  by  whom  I  was 
brought  hither,  and  by  whom  I  am  to  be  removed 
hence  .''  How  do  these  inward  voices  of  fear  and  hope, 
and  these  senses  of  desert  or  ill-desert,  gain  their  an- 
swer ?  Over  against  these  undying  longings  or  dreads 
within  me,  what  outward  realities  are  there  to  justify 
them  .''  What  obligations,  if  any,  rest  on  me .''  What 
perils,  if  any,  environ  me?  What  hopes,. if  any,  invite 
me  .-*     What  destinies,  if  any,  await  me  .'* 

These  are  the  great  questions.  It  is  knowledge  on 
these  matters  that  we  most  need  to  have.  But  on 
these  matters  all  mere  human  wisdom  is  dumb.  Sci- 
ence may  "  charm  her  secret  from  the  latest  moon  "  ; 
but  to  the  inquiry,  "  What  and  where  is  he  who  died 
yesterday.''"  it  has  nothing  to  reply.  On  all  these 
deepest  questions  of  the  soul,  whatever  real  light  shines 
comes,  not  from  History,  Art,  or  Philosophy,  but  from 
Revelation.     And  that  Revelation  is  chiefly  in  Jesus. 

It  is  at  this  point,  therefore,  that  Christ  meets  us. 
Here,  where,  if  left  to  human  wisdom,  there  is  nothing 
but  conjecture  and  uncertainty,  He  calls  to  us,  say- 
ing, "  If  any  man  thirst,  let  him  come  unto  Me  and 
drink." 

It  is  on  these  personal  problems  of  destiny  and  char- 
acter that  He  sheds  light.  Respecting  obligation  and 
hope  it  is,  that  His  are  the  words  which  quench  our 
thirst.  The  import  of  life,  the  reality  of  accountabil- 
ity, the  merely  incidental  character  of  death,  the  cer- 


84  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

tainty  of  a  hereafter,  and  the  alternative  issues  of  sal- 
vation or  perdition  —  these  are  the  questions  concern- 
ing which  knowledge  without  Him  is  most  inaccessi- 
ble, but  upon  which  knowledge  is  all-important  to 
gain.  In  satisfying,  therefore,  as  He  has  and  ever  will 
satisfy,  this  great  want  of  the  soul,  Christ  vindicates 
one  claim  of  His  invitation,  "  If  any  man  thirst,  let 
him  come  unto  Me  and  drink." 

But  man  has  another  want  beside  knowledge.  Eager 
as  is  man's  desire  for  understanding,  his  longing  is  still 
more  for  love. 

It  is  affection  which  makes  about  all  the  true  bless- 
edness there  is  in  this  world.  It  is  the  heart  more 
than  the  head  which  attracts  men  to  each  other  and 
renders  life  worth  the  living.  True  it  is,  indeed,  that 
we  occasionally  encounter  those  in  whom  the  loving 
instincts  seem  almost  dead.  All  intellect,  or  all  con- 
science, or  all  selfishness,  affection  appears  to  be  a 
thing  they  neither  need  nor  give.  But  it  is  doubtful 
whether  even  such  apparent  exceptions  to  that  gen- 
eral law  which  makes  the  interchange  of  kindly  emo- 
tions a  necessity  to  human  happiness,  are  very  often 
absolute  exceptions.  There  is  hardly  any  one  so  ab- 
normally moulded  but  that  some  juncture  of  experience 
reveals  the  yearning  human  heart.  Nevertheless,  even 
a  seeming  lack  pays  its  appropriate  penalty.  The  man 
who  neither  seems  to  crave  nor  give  affection  goes 
through  life,  admired  or  feared,  it  may  be,  but  uncared 
for.  Tears  are  not  wasted  on  his  grave.  To  human 
nature  in  general,  love  is  the  daily  food.  Got  from 
some  source,  given  to  some  object,  it  must  be,  or  life 
is  emptied  of  its  value. 

How  pathetic,  sometimes,  is  the  testimony  borne  to 


SERMONS.  85 

this  fact  in  the  affection  which  one  frequently  sees 
lavished  upon  some  dumb  animal  or  some  insensible 
plant !  It  is,  of  course,  very  easy  to  smile  at  the  devo- 
tion with  which  the  recluse  from  society  cherishes  the 
dog  which  companions  his  wanderings,  or  the  cat  that 
purrs  by  her  chair.  But  this  devotion  is  only  a  witness 
that  the  human  heart,  frustrated  of  its  natural  objects 
of  love,  will  yet  make  channels  somehow  for  its  goings 
forth.  Something  it  must  give  and  gain,  even  if  the 
natural  objects  of  its  giving  and  receiving  fail. 

Does  not  this  thought  very  vividly  remind  us  that 
what  we  have  called  affection's  "natural  objects  "  are 
always  liable  to  fail .-'  Frustration  takes  hold  on  them. 
Friends  vanish.  Parents  die.  Associations  in  life  are 
broken  up.  Society  changes,  so  that  one  looks  about 
him,  after  a  little  while,  and  finds  himself  among  stran- 
gers. Even  the  philanthropic  cause,  which  one  adopts 
and  makes  the  object  of  his  care,  some  way  seems  to 
shift  its  bearings  and  fails  to  afford  an  adequate  out- 
going for  the  heart.  Both  in  giving  and  receiving  the 
channels  choke.  It  is  here  that  Christ  comes  to  us, 
saying,  "  If  any  man  thirst,  let  him  come  unto  Me  and 
drink."  "I  can  satisfy  an  infinite  affection.  You,  I 
love  with  an  everlasting  love.  Your  love  I  crave  with 
a  longing  which  will  not  die." 

Ah !  here  is  something  more  to  me  than  knowledge. 
Christ  is  truth,  and  He  offers  Himself  to  satisfy  my 
intellectual  need.  But  there  are  hours  when  that  is 
not  what  I  want.  Little,  comparatively  —  great 
though  the  gift  absolutely  be  —  little,  comparatively, 
matters  it  to  me  that  so  much  knowledge  comes  to  me 
through  Him.  What  I  want  is  not  knowledge  but 
love.     He  opens  to  me  the  life  that  is  to  be,  it  is  true, 


86  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

as  no  one  else  can  do  ;  but  what  just  now  concerns  me 
most  is  the  life  that  is.  Is  there  One  who  cares  not 
merely  for  my  to-morrow,  but  cares  also  for  my  to-day  ? 
Is  there  One  to  stand  by  me  in  the  hour  of  some 
great  earthly  calamity,  some  wreck  of  life  and  hope  ? 
As  I  lay  the  little  round  head  of  my  child  in  the  silent 
grave,  or  deposit  in  that  last  resting  place  the  pale, 
worn  face  of  my  mother  or  my  sister,  and  feel  the  very 
heartstrings  break  as  the  dust  rattles  down  upon  the 
shut,  forever-shut,  casket  ;  or,  as  I  stand  paralyzed 
amid  the  wreck  of  life-long  business  labors  and  hopes, 
can  I  feel  that  there  is  a  Love,  "which  this  great  woe 
cannot  alter  ;  nay,  of  which  this  woe  may  be  but  an 
evidence  ? 

My  friends,  it  is  just  here  where  Christ's  offer  is 
fullest.  It  speaks  to  our  disappointments  as  well  as 
to  our  wants.  It  comes  at  the  failing-point  of  all 
affections  beside.  For,  alas,  all  beside  do  fail  I  I 
utter  no  disparaging  word  of  the  might  of  human  love. 
Sublime,  noble,  precious  ;  it  is  the  best  man  can  give 
to  man.  Yet,  to  a  thoughtful  mind,  the  reflection 
must  often  sadly  come,  how  small  the  place  is,  after 
all,  that  we  fill  in  our  fellows'  hearts.  Even  the  great 
and  good  who  have  conferred  lasting  benefits  on  their 
kind,  how  quickly  they  are  forgotten  !  Statesman  suc- 
ceeds to  statesman.  Pastor  follows  pastor.  Friend 
comes  after  friend.  Time's  tide  sweeps  everything 
forward,  and  submerges  the  memorials  of  the  proud- 
est or  the  dearest  past. 

How  blessed,  then,  the  remembrance  that  One 
abides  whose  love  for  us  changes  never !  One  who 
forever  gives  and  forever  yearns  to  receive  also  !  One 
who,    whatever   may  fade  or  alter  or   die,   abides  the 


SERMONS. 


87 


same.  Nay,  One  who,  in  His  infinite  love  for  us,  gar- 
ners up  and  keeps  whatever  is  best  in  our  human  lives. 
One  who  cherishes  the  objects  we  have  purely  cared 
for,  and  makes  them  still  dearer  to  us  for  His  own 
sake !  One  in  whom  the  lost  is  given  back,  and  the 
vanished  is  restored  to  sight !  Ah  !  if  ever  word  was 
spoken  in  this  world  which  loving  hearts  should  rejoice 
to  hear,  it  is  this  :  "  If  any  man  thirst,  let  him  come 
unto  Me  and  drink." 

But  there  is  still  one  more  want  to  which  this  offer 
of  Christ  addresses  itself. 

It  is  holiness.  Greatest  of  all,  this  want  of  the  soul. 
I  have  spoken  of  knowledge  as  one  of  man's  chief 
necessities.  It  is  so,  but  it  is  not  so  necessary  as 
virtue.  I  have  said  that  man  needs  affection.  He 
does,  but  not  so  much  as  righteousness.  To  be  pure 
is  more  important  than  to  be  wise  ;  to  be  worthy  of 
being  loved  is  more  essential  than  to  be  loved.  True, 
indeed,  it  is, —  and  deplorable  as  it  is  true, —  that  this 
deepest  need  of  man  is  not  always  man's  deepest 
desire.  The  thing  which  is  most  required,  is  not  cer- 
tainly the  thing  most  sought.  Yet  there  is,  at  times, 
probably,  in  almost  every  breast,  some  sense,  though 
it  may  be  fitful  and  dim,  of  the  necessity  of  holiness. 
Alienated  from  God  as  man  is,  there  still  remains  in 
him  a  feeling  of  relationship ;  and  of  the  obligation 
which  it  brings.  There  are  chords  in  his  heart  which 
vibrate  yet  to  touches  from  above. 

Indeed,  looking  over  the  world,  there  are  few  things 
which  have  left  deeper  traces  on  the  face  of  society,  or 
on  the  history  of  individuals,  than  the  efforts  men  have 
made  to  get  into  that  moral  state,  which  (under  their 
various  forms  of  faith)  they  have  been  taught  to  sup- 


88  KEVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

pose  a  state  of  righteousness.  It  matters  nothing  to 
our  present  purpose  that  these  conceptions  of  what 
such  a  state  really  is  have  been  often  greatly  errone- 
ous. We  are  speaking  now  of  the  fact  that  a  sense  of 
need  has  been  in  millions  of  hearts  ;  and  that  some 
effort,  at  least,  has  been  made  for  its  supply.  And 
what  efforts  they  have  sometimes  been  !  How  intense, 
how  agonized,  how  terrible  have  been  the  expedients 
by  which  men  have  endeavored  to  solve  this  problem 
of  becoming  right  within.  They  have  starved  in  des- 
ert caves  ;  they  have  swung  on  iron  hooks  ;  they  have 
given  their  children  to  the  fire  ;  they  have  shut  them- 
selves in  monastery  cells.  No  suffering  has  been  too 
great  to  bear ;  no  self-denial  too  hard  to  sustain,  by 
multitudes,  in  the  attempt  to  satisfy  the  want  within. 

Ah  !  my  hearers,  sitting  in  this  sanctuary  to-day, 
rejoicing  in  what  we  deem  our  better  way,  comes  there 
not  even  from  many  of  the  errors  we  condemn  in  such 
as  these,  a  voice  of  reproof  and  scorn  ?  Out  even  of 
Africa's  lowest  idolatry,  out  of  Christianity's  extrem- 
est  perversion,  sounds  there  not  a  cry  which  those  who 
are  at  ease  in  Zion  would  do  well  to  hear  .-'  Not  cer- 
tain is  it  by  any  means,  that  we  shall  stand  as  well 
(with  all  our  light  and  privilege)  in  the  day  when 
inquest  for  righteousness  will  be  made,  as  do  some  of 
these  who  groped  so  earnestly,  but  in  such  darkness, 
after  the  answer  to  the  question  :  "  How  shall  a  man 
be  right  with  God  .^  "  "How  be  right  with  God  .-*  " 
That  is  the  great,  the  awful  problem  of  history. 

Yet  observe,  how  even  at  this  late  period  of  time, 
and  amid  what  is  called  the  enlightenment  of  our  age, 
how  powerless,  even  now,  is  science  or  philosophy  to 
answer  this  question  !     Philosophy  can  discourse  pro- 


SERMONS.  89 

foundly  of  the  origin  of  ideas.  But  when  I  ask,  "  How 
can  I  get  rid  of  this  sense  of  sin  ?  "  she  has  not  a 
syllable  to  reply.  Science  can  analyze  for  me  the 
ray  of  light  which  comes  from  one  of  Jupiter's 
moons,  but  how  to  unravel  the  twining  fibres  of  evil 
that  inmesh  and  make  captive  my  trembling  soul,  she 
cannot  tell. 

There  is  only  One  who  can  tell.  He  tells  us  who 
stood  in  that  Temple  court  at  Jerusalem,  on  that 
eighth  day  of  the  festival,  and  said,  "If  any  man  thirst 
let  him  come  unto  Me."  He  answers  the  question, 
always,  who  ever  lives  to  teach  men  how  to  become 
pure. 

"Come  unto  Me,"  He  says.  "I  have  the  gift  you 
need.  I  forgive,  and  I  also  sanctify.  In  My  death  is 
your  absolution  ;  in  My  life  is  your  recovery.  By  my 
sacrifice  I  have  atoned  for  you  ;  and  by  My  rising 
again,  I  restore  you.  Come  to  Me.  My  example  has 
in  it  healing.  My  holiness  has  in  it  purifying  power. 
Rest  upon  Me ;  cling  to  Me  ;  trust  in  Me  ;  and  the 
purity  you  need  will  become  yours.  My  Spirit  shall 
dwell  in  you.  My  grace  shall  transform  you  ;  and  the 
great  wants  of  your  soul  shall  be  satisfied  ;  you  shall  be 
holy  as  I  am  holy."  My  friends,  this  is  what  that 
voice  said  which  spoke  the  invitation  so  long  ago  : 
"Come  unto  Me  and  drink."  This,  nothing  less  than 
this,  is  what  it  promised  and  what  it  has  performed  in 
the  experience  of  thousands. 

Are  there  not  those  here  who  are  athirst .'' 

Is  there  not  some  one  in  this  assembly  who,  perplexed 
by  the  conflicting  voices  of  this  jarring  time,  desires  to 
know  the  truth  .''  To  him  the  invitation  comes  :  "  I 
am  the  truth,  come  to  Me." 


po  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

Are  there  those  whose  hearts'  affections  have  been 
rudely  smitten  ?  Those  who,  wounded  or  bereaved, 
or  misinterpreted  or  alone,  are  reaching  outward  some- 
where for  comfort  and  love  ?  Listen  to  Him  who 
says  :  "  Come  unto  Me.  Can  a  woman  forget  her 
sucking  child  ?  yea,  they  may  forget  ;  yet  will  I  not 
forget  thee." 

Is  a  longing  for  holiness  the  desire  of  any  heart 
here .-'  More  than  knowledge  or  love,  does  purity  seem 
a  precious  thing  .-*  Better  than  heaven  does  it  seem 
to  be  fit  for  heaven  ?  Dearer  than  salvation  is  does 
the  righteousness  of  salvation  seem .-'  Come  then 
freely  to  Jesus.  He  cleanses  the  most  sinful  soul. 
The  holiness  in  Him  He  makes  ours  also.  "  We  all 
beholding  as  in  a  glass  the  glory  of  the  Lord,  are 
changed  into  the  same  image  from  glory  to  glory." 
"  When  He  shall  appear  we  shall  be  like  Him  ;  for  we 
shall  see  Him  as  He  is." 


SERMONS. 


91 


IV. 

CHRIST'S  HAPPINESS.* 

HEBREWS    XII  :  2. 

Who  for  the  joy  that  was  set  before  Him  endured  the  cross, 
despising  the  shame,  and  is  set  down  at  the  right  hand  of 
the  throne  of  God. 

The  Christ  of  the  world's  most  frequent  contempla- 
tion is  a  humiliated  and  suffering  Christ.  On  the 
walls  of  public  galleries  and  private  dwellings  the  eye 
meets,  at  every  turn,  the  depicted  story  of  our  Sav- 
iour's woes.  In  this  picture  you  behold  Him  an  infant, 
for  whom  no  room  could  be  found  in  the  inn,  lying 
among  the  oxen  of  the  stall.  In  that  one,  He  is  a 
man  wearied  with  His  pilgrimage,  asking  drink  of  a 
stranger  at  a  well.  Here  you  see  Him  weeping  beside 
the  grave  of  His  friend  Lazarus.  There  musing 
sorrowfully  from  the  side  of  Mount  Olivet,  upon  the 
fate  of  obdurate  Jerusalem.  Here  He  looks  down 
upon  us  wearing  the  crown  which  Herod's  men  of 
war  braided  for  Him  ;  its  thorns  lacerating  His  fore- 
head. There,  pressed  to  the  earth  by  the  weight  of 
His  cross,  an  imploring  face  appeals  to  us  from  the 
rabble  that  throngs  Him  on  the  way  to  Calvary.  In 
scores  of  forms  is  the  crucifixion  scene,  and  the  taking 
down  from  the  cross,  and  the  depositing  in  the  sepul- 


*  Written  in  1866.     .Somewhat  rewritten  in  1879. 


92 


REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 


chre,  presented  to  us.  Ancient  and  modern  art  have 
exhausted  invention  in  setting  forth, —  by  sculpture, 
by  painting,  by  engraving,  by  mosaic,  by  fresco,  by 
embroidery, —  the  narrative  of  the  Redeemer's  sorrow. 

In  like  manner,  religious  literature  has  employed 
itself  to  a  very  considerable  extent  in  giving  utterance 
to  the  same  plaintive  tale.  The  ignominy  and  the 
sufferings  of  Jesus  are  the  frequent  theme  of  sermons 
in  our  sanctuaries,  of  volumes  in  our  libraries,  of 
stories  in  our  nurseries. 

But  it  is  not  to  the  image  of  a  suffering  Christ  that 
I  shall  chiefly  direct  your  attention  to-day.  Though 
that  image  is,  indeed,  a  very  prominent  one  in  Scrip- 
ture, and  a  most  profitable  one  frequently  to  contem- 
plate, it  is  one  from  which,  on  this  occasion,  1  invite 
you  to  turn  your  eyes  away.  For  it  is  not  a  suffering 
Christ  only,  who  is  presented  to  us  in  the  Book  of 
God.  The  countenance  which  looks  out  upon  us  very 
commonly,  indeed,  from  the  Scripture  page,  is  one 
bearing  indications  of  hardship.  But  there  is  a  gleam 
of  light  in  its  most  pensive  expression.  There  is  a 
forecast  radiance  of  joy,  even  in  its  saddest  hour.  It 
was  not  sorrow  only,  which  was  appointed  Him  ;  there 
was  a  "glory  to  follow."  Though  the  Captain  of  our 
salvation  was  to  be  "  made  perfect  through  suffer- 
ings," He  was  to  be  "made  perfect."  The  day  of  * 
suffering  was  to  be  ended.  And  if  He  was  to  "  endure 
the  cross  "  and  submit  to  the  "  shame,"  there  was  a 
"joy  set  before  Him,"  so  great  that  the  shame  could 
be  "despised"  and  the  cross  could  be  borne,  as  He 
looked  forward  to  the  "recompense  of  the  reward." 

Let  us  contemplate  Him  to-day  as  entered  into  that 
joy.     Not,  indeed,  that  the  glory  which  was  to  follow 


SERMONS. 


93 


our  Saviour's  days  of  humiliation  is  yet  made  full. 
On  the  contrary,  it  is  very  far  from  being  complete. 
There  are  reserves  of  that  glory  of  which  He  has  yet 
received  no  part.  It  is  to  later,  to  eternal  days  that 
we  must  look  if  we  would  contemplate  our  Redeemer 
made  perfect  in  His  blessedness.  No  !  it  is  not  while 
these  old  heavens  endure,  and  this  old  earth  holds  yet 
in  its  cold  clasp  the  buried  bodies  of  all  His  saints, 
that  the  fruition  of  our  Saviour's  rejoicings  will  arrive. 
The  hour  of  that  completed  glory  awaits  the  vanishing 
skies,  the  awakening  graves,  the  descending  Jerusalem 
of  our  Crowned  King. 

Nevertheless,  though  the  day  of  His  perfected  bless- 
edness still  delays,  and  may  delay  yet  many  a  revolving 
year,  our  Saviour  has  already  begun  to  taste  the  "joy 
that  was  set  before  Him."  Already  He  begins  to  reap 
the  recompense  of  the  reward.  A  happiness  even 
now  vast  enough  to  fill  His  soul  with  rejoicing,  and 
to  task  our  feeble  imagination  to  measure,  is  at  every 
moment  His. 

Let  us  try  to  contemplate  that  joy.  Turning  our 
eyes  away  for  awhile  from  a  suffering,  look  we  to  a 
rejoicing  Christ.  Let  us  forget  ourselves, —  our  little, 
griefs,  our  petty  cares,  our  earthly  burdens, —  and 
lifting  our  eyes  above  this  dim  vale  in  which  we  so 
often  sit  and  weep,  get  a  little  vision,  if  we  can,  of  the 
happiness  of  Christ. 

His,  then,  is  the  happiness  of  a  finished  atoning 
work. 

There  is  a  satisfaction  in  completed  labor,  however 
humble  that  labor  may  be.  The  husbandman  at  the 
close  of  autumn,  and  the  sailor  at  the  end  of  his  voy- 
age,   look    back    with    gladness  ^hat   the   labors  and 


94  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

buffetings  of  another  rounded  period  of  their  lives  are 
over.  The  mechanic  rejoices  to  lay  down  his  plane  at 
the  end  of  his  protracted  work.  With  a  kindred  feel- 
ing of  satisfaction  the  author  writes  "  Finis  "  on  his 
concluding  page.  And  just  in  the  degree  in  which 
any  undertaking  is  high  and  difficult,  in  that  degree 
does  he  who  bears  its  burden  rejoice  at  its  close. 
How  welcome  to  the  heart  of  Washington  must  have 
been  the  last  scene  of  the  revolutionary  struggle,  when 
the  capitulation  of  Cornwallis  brought  rest  to  the  worn- 
out  land  !  What  joy,  amid  his  anxieties,  must  have 
come  to  the  heart  of  the  martyred  Lincoln,  in  those 
last  few  days  which  brought  him  tidings  of  Richmond's 
fall  and  Lee's  surrender ;  of  the  Union's  established 
triumph,  and  his  completed  work. 

It  is,  indeed,  a  great  step  from  matters  like  these  up 
to  that  achievement  our  Saviour  wrought  when  He 
atoned  for  human  guilt.  Yet  even  things  like  these 
may  help  us  to  understand  His  joy  when  that  task  was 
done.  For,  once,  like  any  human  undertaking,  that 
work  lay  before  Him  unaccomplished.  There  it  was  ; 
a  thing  to  be  done.  It  was  to  be  the  mightiest  enter- 
prise the  world  had  ever  witnessed  ;  and  He,  Christ 
Jesus,  was  to  be  its  fulfiller.  The  brunt  and  the  strug- 
gle vv'ere  to  be  His.  All  its  comprehensible  and  in- 
comprehensible tasks  of  effort  or  endurance.  He  was 
to  accomplish.  From  Jordan's  baptismal  stream  to 
Golgotha's  cross-topped  hill  was  one  untraversed  path- 
way, overhung  by  mysteries  of  conflict  and  of  suffer- 
ing. The  things  He  was  to  do  by  the  labors  of  His 
hands,  by  the  pleadings  of  His  voice,  by  His  body's 
lacerated  wounds,  were  to  be  only  dim  external  signs 
of  the  overcomings  or  endurings  of  His  soul.     There, 


SERMONS. 


95 


within,  where  no  eye  could  see,  was  the  strain  and 
severity  of  His  enterprise.  The  visible  facts  of  His 
sad  story  were  significant  mainly  as  tokens  of  the 
invisible  "hardships  of  a  work  which  once  lay  all  before 
Him. 

But  it  lies  before  Him  no  longer.  Redemption  is 
not  now  any  more  a  task  to  be  accomplished.  Behind 
Him  it  lies  ;  a  thing  finished  forever.  There  is  Beth- 
lehem, where  never  again  is  He  to  be  cradled  in  a 
herdsman's  stall.  There  is  Nazareth,  whose  toilsome 
years  will  nevermore  acquaint  His  hands  with  the 
hammer  and  the  plane.  There  is  Galilee,  over  whose 
stony  hills,  footsore  and  weary.  He  journeys  no 
longer  on  errands  of  rejected  love.  Behind  Him  lies 
Jerusalem,  whose  Hall  of  Judgment  saw  Him  once  a 
prisoner  condemned  ;  and  Gethsemane,  where  He 
fainted  in  His  spiritual  agony ;  and  Calvary,  which 
lifted  Him  expiring  into  the  darkening  air  ;  and  the 
sepulchre  on  its  slope  where  was  laid  to  its  brief  repose 
the  body  of  the  murdered  man. 

There  they  are  :  but  for  Him  they  are  no  more. 
Once,  every  day  brought  them  nearer  to  Him  ;  now, 
every  day  bears  them  farther  off.  Once,  things  of  an- 
ticipation and  foreboding ;  now  they  are  things  of  mem- 
ory and  reckoning-points  of  success.  He  looks  back 
on  the  whole  sad,  toilsome,  mysterious  story,  as  a  thing 
done  completely,  victoriously,  forever.  And  now, —  if 
we  may  compare  small  things  with  great, —  as  a  con- 
queror rests  when  the  field  is  won,  as  the  swimmer  re- 
poses when  he  reaches  the  hard-gained  shore,  as  the 
man  of  years'  long  endeavor  gives  over  his  toil  when 
the  task  is  complete,  so  rests  the  Redeemer  from  His 
finished  work.     A  happy  rest !  from  labor  mightily  ac- 


gS  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

complished !  A  repose  whose  zest  is  proportioned  to 
the  former  pain.  A  gladness  too  great  for  us  to  meas- 
ure, who  have  never  fathomed  the  sorrow,  is,  and  for- 
evermore  will  be,  the  inheritance  of  Christ. 

Christ's,  again,  is  the  happiness  of  manifested  char- 
acter. It  is  not  an  object  of  unworthy  ambition  for  a 
man,  conscious  of  unusual  capacity  in  affairs,  or  of  a 
noble  integrity  and  largeness  of  soul,  to  desire  opportu- 
nity to  show  of  what  stuff  he  is  made.  It  surely  was 
not  an  unfortunate  circumstance  in  the  life  of  the 
Duke  of  Wellington,  that  those  five  long  hours  of  ter- 
rible suspense  and  dogged  endurance,  while  Napoleon's 
regiments  swept  down  upon  him,  and  Bliicher  did  not 
come,  gave  England  and  the  world  a  chance  to  see 
what  material  God  sometimes  puts  into  a  man.  The 
prisons  and  poorhouses  of  Europe  were  woes  which 
haunted  the  soul  of  Howard  like  ghosts  which  could 
not  be  laid.  But,  had  not  those  wrongs  been,  mankind 
would  never  have  known  what  a  great  heart  lodged  in 
that  feeble  frame.  Florence  Nightingale  would  have 
died  unheard  of,  had  it  not  been  for  the  Crimean  war. 
And  if  the  battles  of  Sadowa,  Gravelotte,  and  Sedan 
had  not  revealed  it,  who  could  have  pronounced  the 
Prussian  Moltke  the  first   soldier  of  his  age. ^ 

From  the  days  of  the  primitive  martyrdc^ns  down  to 
the  last  sufferer  for  principle,  whether  on  public  or  pri- 
vate stage,  the  disclosure  of  character  is  mainly  the 
office  of  adversity.  As  our  great  dramatist  says,  "  In 
the  reproof  of  chance  lies  the  true  proof  of  men."  For 
not  always  is  a  man's  life  so  cast  that  he  can  show 
what  is  in  him.  There  are  other  true  souls  than  this 
world  always  hears  of.  The  plaintive  words  of  the 
author  of  the  Elegy  in  a  Coutitiy  Cliitnhyard,  mourn- 


SERMONS. 


97 


ing  over  those  to  whom  life  never  gave  the  chance 
that  might  have  revealed  what,  if  revealed,  would  never 
have  been  let  die,  are  truer  than  we  always  remember. 
Yes,  favoring  opportunity  is  a  privilege.  The  chance 
to  be  manifested  is  one  of  life's  best  chances.  It  is 
not,  indeed,  that  he  may  be  manifest,  that  the  true 
man  works.  It  is  a  felicity  which  comes  to  him,  if  it 
comes  at  all,  rather  in  the  retrospect  than  in  the  per- 
formance of  his  task.  If  he  can  look  back  on  it  from 
the  end,  conscious  of  the  integrity  with  which  he  has 
wrought,  the  fact  that  his  work  has  permitted  him  to 
show  that  his  heart  was  true,  and  his  motives  pure, 
must  be  esteemed  a  happy  circumstance.  "  I  have 
coveted  no  man's  silver,  or  gold,  or  apparel.  Yea,  ye 
yourselves  know  that  these  hands  have  ministered  unto 
my  necessities,  and  to  them  that  were  with  me,"  said 
the  aged  tent-maker  at  Miletus.  Would  he  have  lightly 
sold,  or  ought  he  to  have  lowly  esteemed,  the  possibil- 
ity of  making  that  humble  boast  .'' 

Yet  all  other  manifestations  of  character  beside,  do 
they  not,  even  the  brightest,  ask  for  a  veil  of  obli- 
vion forever  to  cover  them,  compared  with  Christ's  .■* 
Among  the  joys  which  fill  His  heart  looking  back  on 
His  earthly  history,  must  not  this  be  one,  that  His 
was  a  record  in  every  emergency,  from  which  nothing 
needs  to  be  taken,  in  which  nothing  needs  to  be  de- 
plored, to  which  nothing  can  be  added  —  the  perfect 
record  of  the  Perfect  Man.  And  this,  remember,  not 
because  it  was  passively  and  necessarily  so.  No  !  un- 
less the  temptations  which  assailed  our  Saviour  were 
illusive  spectacles,  and  the  hardships  He  sustained 
were  hollow  make-believes,  it  was  not  inevitable  that 
the  record  He  left  behind  Him  should  be  that  of  the 


gS  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

only  "  spotless  soul  that  ever  breathed  through  human 
clay."  It  was  by  effort  He  wrote  that  memorial  which 
blinds  our  eyes  by  its  brightness.  He  was  what  He 
was,  by  struggle  and  conflict.  He  was  put  to  the  proof 
as  no  man  beside  was  ever  proved.  Tried  by  humilia- 
tion, tried  by  suffering,  tried  by  satanic  wiles,  tried  by 
desertions  of  His  God,  He  stood  steadfast.  He  proved 
His  character  in  the  furnace  flame.  He  won  His  char- 
acter by  struggle. 

Now,  from  the  heavenly  rest  into  which  He  has  en- 
tered, He  looks  back  on  the  only  example  earth  can 
show  of  a  sinless  character  and  a  perfect  life.  Not  a 
virtue  men  prize,  but  it  is  there.  Not  a  strength  they 
admire,  but  it  is  there.  Not  a  heroism  they  honor,  a 
self-denial  they  revere,  a  beauty  they  cherish,  a  grace 
they  love,  but  it  shines  —  tested  to  the  uttermost  —  in 
the  character  of  Christ.  To  them  forever  it  is  an  ex- 
ample too  high  to  attain,  but  ceaselessly  to  emulate ; 
to  Him  it  is  a  joy  the  sweetness  of  which  can  never 
die. 

Christ's  again,  is  the  happiness  of  the  perpetual  dis- 
pensation of  good. 

It  was  one  of  Christ's  own  utterances  in  the  days  of 
His  earthly  experience,  "  It  is  more  blessed  to  give 
than  to  receive."  Days  of  His  "experience,"  I  say, 
for  those  were  days  when  to  minister  to  Christ's  ur- 
gent and  painful  wants  was  a  possible  thing  to  do. 
Undoubtedly  he  spoke  out  of  His  experience.  To 
Him  it  was  a  more  blessed  thing  to  give  than  to  gain. 
How  oftener  fell  the  word  of  gentle  greeting  from  His 
lips  than  it  fell  upon  His  ear!  How  more  frequent 
the  stretching  forth  of  His  hands  to  minister  to  others 
than  theirs  to  comfort  Him  !     And  yet  He  knew  some- 


SERMONS. 


99 


thing  of  benefits  received.  There  were  those  who  gave 
Him  shelter,  food,  and  raiment.  One  there  was  who 
washed  His  feet  with  tears  and  wiped  them  with  her 
hair.  He  knew  enough  of  the  satisfaction  of  being 
helped  to  be  able  experimentally  to  say  whether  it  is 
better  to  give  or  to  receive.  And  He  has  told  us  how 
He  found  it.  He  has  let  us  know  what,  as  He  tested 
life,  was  the  best  good  in  it.  He  has  shown  whether 
it  was  the  wiping  of  another's  tears  or  the  drying  of 
His  own  which  was  best  to  Him.  The  Son  of  Man, 
He  says,  "  came  not  to  be  ministered  unto,  but  to  min- 
ister, and  to  give  his  life  a  ransom  for  many." 

And  because  that  was  the  spirit  in  which  He  did 
His  work,  and  the  law  by  which  He  died,  now  that  He 
has  entered  into  His  reward.  He  has  become  the  dis- 
penser of  perpetual  good  to  all  the  inhabitants  of 
heaven.  Not  a  ransomed  soul  in  all  the  ranks  of  the 
blest,  but  He  is  the  giver  of  the  joy.  Not  one  of  all 
the  innumerable  host,  but  came  to  those  happy  seats 
by  Him.  As  He  looks  around  Him  on  the  throng,  He 
knows  there  is  not  one  of  them  that  His  blood  did  not 
buy.  His  sacrifice  atone  for,  His  grace  redeem.  Not 
a  foot  treads  the  golden  pavement  which  was  not 
guided  thither  by  His  care.  Not  a  tongue  lifts  up  the 
song  of  praise,  but  it  tells  of  salvation  wrought  by 
Him.  The  garments  of  light  in  which  the  ransomed 
stand,  the  harps  of  thanksgiving  they  hold,  the  inward 
peace  and  sense  of  reconciliation  they  know,  all  are 
His  gift.  He  gives,  and  none  can  pay  Him  again.  His 
bestowals  overpass  all  possibility  of  requital.  Forever, 
among  the  multitudes  out  of  every  tongue  and  clime, 
He  must  remain  the  Man  most  perfectly  blest,  because 
most  perfect  in  making  blest.     Unspeakably,  immeas- 


lOO  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

urably  happy,  He  lives  the  example  which  makes  all 
others  dim,  of  the  greater  joy  it  is  to  give  than  to 
receive. 

Once  more,  Christ's  is  the  happiness  of  personal 
fellowship  with  the  spirits  of  His  ransomed  ones  in 
heaven. 

Just  where  that  heaven  is  into  which  the  Saviour 
entered  at  His  ascension,  we  cannot  tell.  Whether 
the  place  —  for  a  place  it  would  appear  to  be  since  He 
went  thither  in  His  proper  body  —  is  the  same  with 
that  which  will  be  the  final  abode  of  the  redeemed 
after  their  bodies  shall  have  been  raised  from  the  grave, 
there  is  reason  to  doubt.  Many  things  in  the  Word 
of  God  would  seem  to  indicate  that  the  place  of  that 
final  abode  of  the  saints  may  be  this  earth  where  we 
now  dwell,  regenerated,  transformed,  made  new  by  the 
baptism  of  purifying  fire.  But,  however  that  may  be, 
the  Scripture  seems  also  to  give  us  intimations  that  in 
that  same  place  where  Jesus  now  is,  there  His  disem- 
bodied saints  now  are  with  Him.  "To-day  shalt  thou 
be  with  Me  in  paradise,"  said  Christ  to  the  dying  com- 
panion of  His  crucifixion  sufferings.  "  Father,  I  will 
that  they  also  whom  thou  hast  given  me,  be  with  Me 
where  I  am,"  said  the  Saviour  in  the  same  prayer  in 
which  He  also  said,  "And  now  I  come  to  Thee." 

Where  Christ  now  is,  there  are  the  spirits  of  the 
just.  Joined  with  Him  in  happy  fellowship,  they  await 
the  hour  when  the  last  trumpet  shall  summon  the 
grave  to  give  up  its  charge,  and  the  ransomed  spirit 
shall  unite  with  its  ransomed  and  transformed  clay. 
But  even  now  the  happiness  of  that  fellow.ship  to  Him 
and  them,  who  shall  measure  ?  Certainly  it  is  immeas- 
urable to  them.     Many  of  them  left  happy  homes  to 


SERMONS.  lOi 

enter  there ;  but  not  one  so  happy  that  the  emanci- 
pated spirit  has  not  learned  that,  sweet  as  were  any 
joys  of  earth,  to  "depart  and  be  with  Christ  is  far 
better." 

But  to  Him  also  that  fellowship  is  precious.  These 
are  those  He  has  redeemed.  By  His  own  blood  He 
has  bought  them.  Every  grace  that  shines  in  them  is 
the  product  of  His  care.  With  rejoicing  inexpressible 
He  dwells  among  them  and  smiles  on  them.  And 
His,  remember,  is  a  fellowship  which  is  every  hour  in- 
creasing. With  every  revolving  day  of  earthly  time, 
the  number  of  that  blissful  companionship  multiplies. 
Ransomed  ones  are  welcomed  home  from  every  region 
of  the  populated  globe.  Here  is  one  from  Syria,  land 
of  the  Saviour's  birth  and  burial.  Here  is  one  from 
Italy,  land  of  the  Roman  power  which  crucified  Him. 
Here  is  one  from  Africa,  country  of  the  man  who  bore 
the  Saviour's  cross  on  the  way  to  Golgotha.  Here 
come  those  from  China,  Greenland,  and  America,  re- 
gions unconjectured  by  even  apostolic  ken,  but  en- 
folded in  the  purpose  of  forgiving  grace,  and  gathered 
in  the  arms  of  atoning  sacrifice.  Every  hour  they 
come.  Old  age  and  infancy.  Wearied  with  care,  or 
called  with  all  earth's  joys  before  them.  From  pal- 
aces, from  hovels.  Of  every  color,  lineage,  tongue.  A 
thronging,  multiplying,  exultant  host.  And  over  them 
all  He  sits  welcoming,  blessing,  blessed. 

Faint  and  inadequate  is  human  speech  to  utter,  even 
that  little  the  human  thought  can  conjecture  of  a  hap- 
piness so  great !  His  work  accomplished,  His  charac- 
ter made  gloriously  manifest,  the  dispenser  of  infinite 
good,  the  rejoicing  companion  of  His  redeemed,  our 
imagination   falters   in  the   attempt    to    conceive   the 


I02  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

height  and  the  depth  of  a  joy  no  soul  in  the  universe 
but  that  of  Christ  could  compass,  as  none  but  His 
deserves. 

But,  marvelous  as  is  the  happiness  of  Christ,  forget 
not,  my  hearers,  that  to  every  one  of  you  the  privilege 
of  adding  to  it  is  given.  Yes !  blessed  beyond  concep- 
tion as  is  our  Redeemer,  you  can  increase  that  blessed- 
ness. Give  yourself  to  Him,  if  you  have  never  given. 
Give  yourself  more  unreservedly  if  you  have  ever  made 
a  partial  surrender,  and  an  added  joy  will  thrill  through 
His  already  rejoicing  soul.  You  will  lend  a  new  ele- 
ment to  even  the  happiness  of  Christ. 


SERMONS. 


103 


v.* 

AMBITION  FOR  NOBLE   SERVICE. 

II    TIMOTHY    II   :  20,    21. 

But  in  a  great  house  there  are  not  only  vessels  of  gold  ana  of  sil- 
ver, but  also  of  wood  and  of  earth  ;  and  some  to  hotior  and  some 
to  dishonor.  If  a  man,  therefore,  purge  himself  from  these 
he  shall  be  a  vessel  unto  honor,  sanctified,  and  meet  for  the 
Masters  use,  and  prepared  unto  ei'ery  good  work. 

One  of  the  most  powerful  motives  which  has  ever 
influenced  the  minds  of  men  is  ambition.  And  it  is 
not  one  of  the  most  powerful  only,  but  one  of  the  most 
pervasive  also.  It  is  a  motive  which,  to  some  extent, 
affects  all  minds.  The  objects  toward  which  this  pas- 
sion is  directed,  are,  indeed,  almost  infinitely  various. 
It  ranges  over  the  whole  breadth  of  human  life  and 
action.  The  distance  from  the  ambition  of  a  Bismarck 
eager  to  raise  Prussia  to  the  position  of  dictator  in  the 
affairs  of  Europe,  to  the  ambition  of  Hanlon  equally 
eager  to  outrow  any  other  champion  of  the  boating 
fraternity,  only  very  imperfectly  indicates  the  scope  of 
the  sentiment  under  consideration.  For  it  is  a  senti- 
ment which  has  no  limits  inside  the  aims  and  occupa- 
tions of  universal  humanity.  Newton's  aspiration  to 
solve  the  mathematic  problem  of  gravity,  and  the 
Sioux  Indian's  ambition  to  shine  in  the  superior  hid- 


*  Written  in  1869.     Somewhat  rewritten  in  1877. 


I04  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

eousness  of  his  red  paint,  are  both  illustrations  of  the 
same  sentiment.  Ambition  to  leave  behind  him  a 
poem  of  immortal  memory  prompted  the  lofty  muse  of 
the  blind  singer  of  Paradise  Lost.  It  is  equally  ambi- 
tion which  incites  the  schoolboy  on  the  lower  bench  to 
conquer  the  abstruse  perplexities  of  the  multiplica- 
tion table. 

Now  this  aspiring  sentiment,  so  instinctive  and  uni- 
versal, derives  its  moral  quality  from  the  objects 
toward  which  it  is  directed.  In  itself,  and  as  an  ab- 
stract matter,  it  is  neither  good  nor  bad.  It  is  simply 
one  of  the  great  natural  impulses  of  man,  which  can 
be  made  useful  or  harmful,  right  or  wrong,  by  its 
direction.  Just  as  the  physical  capacity  of  moving 
the  arm  may  be  made  the  instrument,  in  one  case,  of 
an  act  of  benevolence,  and  in  another,  of  an  act  of 
cruelty,  so  this  sentiment  of  aspiration,  equally  neutral 
in  itself,  derives  its  moral  character  from  the  result  at 
which  it  aims. 

We  are,  indeed,  very  much  accustomed  to  see  this 
impulse  of  man's  nature  directed  toward  questionable 
or  evil  objects.  Ambition  is  a  motive  power  too  often 
subverted  to  Satan's  uses.  The  very  name  has  come 
to  have  a  kind  of  sinister  sound.  But  there  is  noth- 
ing in  the  impulse  of  aspiration  itself  which  involves 
any  necessity  of  evil  direction.  Satan  has  no  claim 
upon  it,  as  belonging  characteristically  to  him  or  his 
service.  It  belongs  to  God.  It  is  an  agency  in  His 
service.  It  has  its  scope  and  function  in  the  aims  and 
occupations  of  piety,  as  truly  as  in  those  of  worldliness. 

The  Gospel  claims  this  agency.  It  is  one  to  which 
it  makes  continual  appeal.  Ambition  has  a  place  in 
religion.     The  aspiration  for  something  rich  and  high 


SERMONS.  105 

and  distinctive  is  an  aspiration  encouraged  in  scores  of 
utterances  of  the  Book  of  God.  At  the  same  time, 
also,  that  Book  defines  the  proper  field,  and  regulates 
the  right  exercise  of  this  sentiment.  It  stimulates  its 
activity,  and  it  guides  its  powers.  It  at  once  incites 
and  directs.     Our  text  is  an  example  in  point  : 

But  in  a  great  house  there  are  not  only  vessels  of  gold  and  of 
silver,  but  also  of  wood  and  of  earth  ;  and  some  to  honor  and 
some  to  dishonor.  If  a  man,  therefore,  purge  himself  from 
these,  he  shall  be  a  vessel  unto  honor,  sanctified,  and  meet  for 
the  Master's  use,  and  prepared  unto  every  good  work. 

Two  things  in  this  passage  must  at  once  strike  the 
attentive  hearer. 

One  of  them  is  the  boldness  with  which  the  senti- 
ment of  ambition  is  appealed  to  in  it.  The  other  is  the 
clearness  with  which  it  points  out  the  sphere  of  that 
sentiment's  proper  exercise.  These  two  things,  then, 
let  us  a  few  moments  contemplate.  Christian  ambi- 
tion :  its  object  and  obligation.^  And  first  of  the 
object. 

"  In  a  great  house  "  —  the  Apostle  tells  us, —  there 
are  vessels  of  many  substances  and  many  uses.  The 
materials  of  some  of  them  are  precious  and  they  sub- 
serve noble  purposes.  The  materials  of  others  are 
common  and  they  subserve  inferior  ends.  But  they 
are  all  useful.  Even  the  meanest  of  them  in  substance 
and  in  intention  has  its  utility.  It  has  a  function.  Its 
purpose  is  for  service.  So,  too,  however  various  the 
specific  aspirations  of  Christian  ambition,  they  are  all 
shut  up  under  the  general  requirement  of  utility. 
The  allowable  objects  of  Christian  aspiration  are  such 
as  relate  to  service.  Personal  enjoyment,  even  if  it  be 
of  a  religious  kind,  is  a  thing  which  the  Scriptures  do 


Io6  KKVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

not  give  us  much  encouragement  to  make  the  direct 
object  of  search.  Mere  happiness  is  a  thing  the  Scrip- 
tures hold  very  cheap.  Usefuhiess,  efficiency,  are  the 
things  they  prompt  us  to.  Equipment  and  capacity 
for  spiritual  service, —  these  are  the  objects  of  Chris- 
tian desire.     Ambition  for  these  is   a  sacred  passion. 

But  there  are  differences  in  spiritual  service.  There 
is  the  use  which  the  earthen  vessel  may,  perhaps,  ade- 
quately serve  ;  and  there  is  the  use  which  can  appro- 
priately be  fulfilled  only  by  the  golden  urn.  In  other 
words,  Christian  usefulness  is  a  most  various  matter. 
It  is  a  thing  calling  for  very  dissimilar  capacity  and 
refinement  in  the  instruments.  There  are  spiritual 
functions  which  can,  in  a  manner,  be  discharged  by  the 
possessors  of  only  a  relatively  low  and  undeveloped 
piety.  But  they  are  comparatively  unimportant  func- 
tions. While,  on  the  other  hand,  the  functions  of 
noblest  utility  and  benignest  benefits,  can  only  be  ful- 
filled by  possessors  of  ardent  piety  and  rich  experience. 

The  sphere  of  Christian  ambition,  then,  is  in  seek- 
ing these  higher  endowments  to  fit  for  higher  service. 
It  is  a  legitimate  object  of  desire  to  seek  the  largest 
possible  capability  of  use.  The  widened  mind,  the  sym- 
pathetic heart,  the  persuasive  tongue,  the  quick-discern- 
ing spiritual  instinct, —  these  are  to  be  sought,  because 
these  fit  their  possessor  for  greater  employment  in 
the  Lord's  work.  We  can  none  of  us  hope  to  be  more 
than  instruments  in  the  Spirit's  hands. 

But  there  is  a  choice  in  the  instruments,  as  the 
various  works  to  be  performed  are  of  differing  deli- 
cacy and  difficulty.  And  Christian  ambition  finds 
its  proper  object  in  fitness  for  those  higher  uses. 
Meetness   for    the    Lord's    best    work,     adaptedness 


SEUMOXS. 


107 


of  mind  and  heart  and  will  to  the  noblest  service  in 
which  God  condescends  to  use  men  in  this  world, 
this  is  a  Christian's  true  and  highest  object  of  aspira- 
tion. Compared  with  this,  desire  for  mere  personal 
religious  comfort  or  security  is  ignoble.  Measured  by 
this  longing  for  endowment  for  the  Lord's  use,  any 
longing  for  simply  individual  happiness  or  hope  is 
selfish  and  mean.  That  it  is  religious,  makes  it  none 
the  less  so. 

Such  being,  then,  the  true  object  of  Christian  ambi- 
tion, turn  a  moment  to  consider  with  equal  brevity  the 
obligation  of  pursuing  it. 

The  duty  of  seeking  this  object  arises  from  the  pos- 
sibility. It  is  argument  enough  to  urge  the  obligation 
of  striving  after  a  high  endowment  for  the  Lord's  serv- 
ice that  a  man  can  strive  and  that  striving  has  its  re- 
sult. The  whole  question  is  settled  by  the  simple  fact 
that  equipment  for  the  higher  forms  of  Christian  use- 
fulness is  very  much  a  matter  of  choice  and  endeavor. 
Adaptedness  of  mind  and  heart  to  the  nobler  services 
of  the  Gospel  is  a  thing  which,  to  a  great  extent,  falls 
within  the  scope  of  voluntary  effort.  Of  this  we  have 
an  intimation  in  the  text.  "  If  a  man,  therefore,  purge 
himself  from  these,  he  shall  be  a  vessel  unto  honor, 
sanctified  and  meet  for  the  Master's  use,  and  prepared 
unto  every  good  work." 

Preparation  unto  higher  work, —  sanctification  unto 
more  honorable  uses, —  these  are  the  rewards  held  out 
to  voluntary  endeavor  to  purge  one's  self  from  defiling 
influences,  and  to  present  one's  self  perfectly  to  the 
Lord's  service.  It  is  a  thing  which  can  be  done. 
Fitness  for  better  and  worthier  work  is  the  prize  of 
effort  and  self-consecration.     The  vessels  of  the  Lord's 


Io8  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON   WALKER,    D.D. 

house  are  not  like  those  of  our  own,  unchangeably 
ordained  to  high  or  to  menial  ends.  These  human  ves- 
sels have  a  capacity  of  change.  They  can  alter  in 
character  and  advance  in  use.  The  earthen  may  be- 
come golden  ;  the  wood  may  turn  to  silver.  And  with 
that  progressive  change  will  come,  also,  an  enhancing 
honorableness  in  the  employment  to  which  the  Master 
will  put  them. 

What  transformations  Christian  experience  has  seen ! 
What  alterations  of  substance !  What  exaltations  in 
use!  Under  the  power  of  Divine  grace  and  the  high 
ambition  to  serve  increasingly  sacred  ends,  what  earthen 
vessels  have  been  made  golden  censers  in  the  Temple 
of  God  !  Saul  of  Tarsus,  and  Paul  the  Apostle  ;  Bun- 
yan  the  wandering  mender  of  kettles  and  pots,  and 
Bunyan  the  Pilgrim's  guide  to  heaven  ;  Newton  the 
captain  of  a  slave  ship,  and  Newton  the  preacher  of 
the  Gospel  and  singer  of  sweet  songs  of  devotion;  Chal 
mers  the  formal  unconsecrated  minister,  and  Chalmers 
the  great  modern  Apostle  of  Scotland, —  these  illus- 
trate the  marvel  of  that  change  by  which  the  wood  and 
earth  of  our  humanity  may  be  fitted  to  services  more 
sacred  than  the  shining  bowls  upon  the  altar  of  the 
ancient  tabernacle. 

Nay,  in  the  more  familiar  precincts  of  church  and 
of  household  life,  how  often  have  we  seen  this  same 
transformation  wrought  !  With  what  distinctness  have 
we  beheld  the  alteration  effected  by  the  Divine  Spirit 
in  the  whole  character  of  some  one  whom  God  has 
touched  with  the  high  ambition  to  become  useful  in  the 
world.  Under  the  influence  of  that  endeavor,  how  have 
intellect  quickened,  and  emotion  deepened,  and  capac- 
ity   enlarged.      How   has    the    stammering  utterance 


SERMONS. 


109 


become  eloquent,  and  the  trembling  step  grown  strong. 
You  behold  the  progressive  change.  Before  your  very 
eyes  the  earthen  bowl  of  some  poor  common  human 
spirit  becomes  a  burnished  vessel  of  God's  altar,  and 
filled  with  fragrances  of  grace,  sweeter  than  frankin- 
cense and  myrrh.  Changes  like  these  are  open  to  en- 
deavor. They  are  the  result  and  the  reward  of  effort. 
Christian  aspiration  can  attain  to  them,  and  the  duty 
of  aspiration  lies  in  that  fact. 

I  call  attention,  therefore,  in  the  practical  enforce- 
ment of  this  theme,  to  one  or  two  thoughts  of  a  direct 
and  personal  character.  Especially  do  I  invoke  the 
careful  consideration  of  the  young  to  suggestions  suited, 
I  think,  to  the  position  of  privilege  in  which  they 
stand. 

One  of  these  suggestions  is  the  duty  resting  on 
every  person  to  aim  at  high  and  worthy  service.  It  is 
a  Christian  privilege,  and  no  less  a  Christian  duty,  also, 
to  be  ambitious  in  this  matter.  The  spirit  of  the  Gos- 
pel encourages  large  anticipations.  There  is  nothing 
repressive  and  narrow  about  it.  It  begets  a  divine  dis- 
content with  low  attainments  and  with  successes 
scantier  than  opportunity. 

To  be  sure,  in  prompting  to  larger  endeavors  the 
Gospel  does  not,  as  we  are  too  apt  to  do,  underesti- 
mate and  despise  little  things.  No  !  it  has  a  great  rev- 
erence for  little  things,  and  it  looks  for  an  exact  and 
painstaking  carefulness  respecting  them.  It  requires, 
also,  if  one  is,  in- the  providence  of  God,  rigidly  shut 
up  to  a  trivial  task  and  a  narrow  and  unchangeable  lot 
in  life,  that  he  be  content  as  well  as  faithful  where  he 
is.  Nay,  more,  that  he  do  his  work,  however  lowly, 
with  an  assured  confidence  that  it  is  accepted  work : — 


no  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.U. 

work  appointed,  valued,  and  honored  by  Him  in  whose 
service  it  is  done. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  Gospel  encourages  the 
aim,  wherever  it  can  find  scope, —  and  few  are  the  lives 
wherein  it  cannot, —  for  higher  endowment  and  fuller 
service.  It  says,  in  effect,  to  all  of  its  disciples  "  Do 
better  things  ;  do  better  things  !  "  Do  not  be  content 
with  trifles.  Be  not  satisfied  with  but  little.  Work 
faithfully  in  your  sphere,  and  widen  it  if  you  can.  Go 
forward  steadfastly,  and,  if  possible,  go  somewhat  up- 
ward, too.  Seek  for  higher  labors  ;  and  seek  to  be 
qualified  for  them  by  being  lifted  up  yourself.  The 
wider  mind,  the  warmer  heart,  the  stronger  faith,  the 
more  persuasive  tongue,  seek  for  these  things,  that 
you  may  use  them,  on  an  ever  heightening  plane,  and 
in  a  continually  widening  sphere.  And  that  you  may 
make  this  progress,  use  the  gifts  you  now  have. 

Suppose  they  are  small.  They  will  grow  by  exer- 
cise. Do  not  be  daunted  out  of  your  greatest  privi- 
lege —  the  privilege  of  growing  strong  and  equipped 
in  the  Lord's  service.  The  condition  of  that  growth  is 
present  endeavor.  Use  the  gift,  and  the  gift  will  in- 
crease. Surely  it  is  not  the  vessel  content  to  be  for- 
ever the  vessel  of  wood,  that  ever  becomes  the  golden 
censer  "  sanctified  and  meet  for  the  Master's  use." 

There  is  another  suggestion  of  a  very  serious  char- 
acter, which  arises  from  the  subject  now  in  hand. 
This  is  a  suggestion  as  to  the  danger  of  base  uses  of 
that  vessel  of  the  human  soul,  which  a  man  hopes  to 
present  to  the  service  of  God.  It  is  a  matter  of  famil. 
iar  observation  among  the  neat-handed  conductors  of 
household  affairs,  that  the  soundest  utensil  may  become 
permanently  dishonored  by  the  use  to  which  it  is,  per- 


SERMONS.  Ill 

haps,  accidentally  subjected.  The  firkin  is  ruined  by  its 
contents.  The  earthen  jar,  despite  whatever  efforts  at 
cleansing,  gives  out  the  taint  which  has  sunk  into  it 
from  what  it  has  been  made  to  hold.  The  casket,  air 
it  ever  so  long,  never  loses  the  scent  of  the  musk  spilled 
inadvertently  upon  it.  And  in  many  such  cases,  a  per- 
manent degradation  of  function  is  the  consequence. 
The  vessel,  whatever  it  may  be,  can  never  again  be 
used  for  the  highest  services.  Outwardly  unchanged 
and  perfect,  it  is,  nevertheless,  lastingly  unfitted  for 
the  best  uses.  A  secret  debasement,  from  which  it 
can  never  recover,  condemns  it  perpetually  to  a  lower 
employment  and  to  more  menial  disposals. 

Now  something  terribly  like  this,  although  the 
parallel  is  of  course  not  perfect,  takes  place  also  in  the 
spiritual  vessels  of  human  souls.  There  is  a  peril  of 
permanent  degradation  lying  in  too  long  and  too  willing 
subjection  to  the  influences  of  evil.  Sinful  habits  and 
appetites  carry  with  them  a  tremendous  and  far-reach- 
ing peril.  There  is  a  danger,  sad  to  contemplate,  of  a 
lasting  incapacity,  if  not,  indeed,  for  some  service, — 
yet  for  the  highest  and  best  service  in  the  work  of  the 
Lord.  Earthliness  and  frivolity  are  not  matters  of 
transient  influence.  The  loss  which  they  sometimes 
inflict  is  not  limited  to  those  days  only  in  which  the 
individual  yielded  himself  with  apparent  willingness  to 
their  power.  It  reaches  often  far  beyond.  It  takes 
hold  upon  a  time  when  a  far  different  hope  incites  him, 
and  an  altered  spirit  impels.  So  that,  even  then,  when 
the  man,  touched  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  eagerly  seeks 
to  be  of  service  in  God's  work,  when  it  has  become  his 
ambition  to  be  a  vessel  sanctified  and  meet  for  the 
Master's  use,  even  then  how  sadly,  oftentimes,  does  he 


112  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

reap  the  consequences  of  his  long  enthralment  to  a 
baser  service.  His  soul  gives  out  the  scent  of  its  older 
associations.  Cleansed  never  so  earnestly,  the  taint  of 
the  contents  it  has  held  so  long  is  in  it  still.  It  cannot 
be  of  the  use  it  might  have  been.  Not  useless  need 
it  be,  but  not  a  vessel  to  the  highest  service.  It  may 
fulfil  many  an  important  function,  but  it  cannot  hold 
the  anointing  oil. 

O  my  hearers !  there  is  a  solemn  truth  here,  which 
it  becomes  you  to  remember.  These  souls  of  ours  are 
not  so  simply  wrought,  that  a  moment's  repenting,  or 
a  determined  resolve,  nor  even  the  direct  operations  of 
divine  grace,  can  wholly  wipe  out  the  influences  of  our 
past,  and  enable  us  to  enter  on  a  new  life  untouched 
by  inheritances  from  the  old.  It  is  not  so.  What  we 
have  been  affects  what  we  are  to  be.  You  cannot,  my 
hearers,  spend  a  youthtime  of  idle  vanity  and  then 
come  fitted  and  sanctified  to  a  Christian's  better  serv- 
ice. However  sincere  your  repenting,  you  must 
inevitably  bear  something  of  the  loss  of  your  foolish 
years.  You  cannot,  O  man  of  business,  and  I  will 
suppose,  professor  of  religion,  too,  you  cannot  immerse 
yourself  in  worldly  things,  and  heap  up  your  heart 
overflowing  full  with  material  desires,  and  then  come 
clean  and  fit  for  the  best  uses  of  the  Lord's  altar. 
Beware,  then,  of  a  permanent  loss  !  There  are  uses 
from  which  the  human  spirit  can  never  fully  be 
restored.  The  dishonored  vessel  can,  in  this  life  cer- 
tainly, never  be  cleansed  to  become  fitted  to  the  Mas- 
ter's highest  use. 

The  word  of  entreaty  comes  to  all,  in  whatever  posi- 
tion you  now  stand.  "  Purge  yourselves  to  nobler  serv- 
ices!"    The  past,  whatever  its  character,  is  unaltera- 


SERMONS.  113 

ble.  The  present,  only,  is  your  certain  possession. 
Cleanse  yourselves  for  the  best  uses  that  remain.  It 
is  no  longer  now  a  question  what  noble  uses  you  might 
have  served.  The  only  question  left  is,  what  uses  can 
you  serve.  And  high  services  remain.  There  are 
noble  functions  to  be  fulfilled.  Aspire  to  them.  Set 
your  mark  high.  Purify  yourselves  that  you  may  be 
fitted  for  them. 

Ah  !  my  beloved  hearer,  especially  my  hearer  in  the 
period  of  youth,  there  is  a  sacred  encouragement  for 
you  to  do  this.  The  alchemy  of  divine  grace  does 
wondrous  things.  More  marvelous  are  its  changes 
than  those  fabled  of  the  magic  workers  of  old.  The 
heart  early  and  fully  submitted  to  God  can  be  fitted  to 
most  sacred  functions.  A  progressively  refining  influ- 
ence adapts  it  for  higher  and  higher  service.  Nearer 
and  nearer  to  the  altar  it  can  come  ;  closer  and  closer 
to  the  glory  and  the  sacrifice.  It  may  be  made,  among 
the  vessels  of  the  sanctuary,  like  that  which  holds  the 
sacramental  bread,  or  the  chalice  which  conveys  to 
longing  lips  the  redemptive  drops  of  Calvary.  I  com- 
mend this  sacred  ambition  to  you.  "  If  a  man,  there- 
fore, purge  himself  from  these,  he  shall  be  a  vessel 
unto  honor,  sanctified,  and  meet  for  the  Master's  use 
and  prepared  unto  every  good  work." 


11^  REVEREXD    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 


VI. 
YOKE  WEARING.* 

Matthew  xi  :  29. 
"  Take  my  yoke  upon  yoji.'''' 

Most  men,  when  they  seek  to  bring  others  to  new 
opinions  or  imfamiHar  labors,  are  tempted  a  little  to 
conceal  whatever  displeasing  aspects  there  may  be 
about  those  opinions  or  labors,  and  to  bring  promi- 
nently into  the  foreground  only  the  agreeable  matters. 
If  a  man  is  attempting  to  sell  you  anything,  you  are 
pretty  sure  that  its  merits  rather  than  its  defects  will 
have  a  full  disclosure.  It  would  be  a  somewhat  novel 
method  of  solicitation  to  put  into  the  forefront  of  the 
interview  the  dissuasives  from  compliance. 

Yet  something  which  seems  very  much  like  doing 
this  characterized  Christ's  way,  not  unfrequently,  in 
His  appeals  to  men.  Our  text  is  an  example  in  point. 
"Take  my  yoke  upon  you,"  He  says.  The  words  are 
immediately  coupled,  indeed,  with  one  of  the  most 
tender  and  persuasive  of  His  promises :  "  Ye  shall 
find  rest  unto  your  souls."  But  that  promise,  sweet 
and  inviting  as  it  is,  is  prefaced  by  this  condition, 
"Take  rc\y  joke  upon  you." 

Christ  invites  us  to  Himself ;  but  He  has  no  inten- 


*  Written  in  1 869. 


SERMONS.  115 

tion  of  deceiving  us  into  coming.  He  gives  us  fair 
notice  beforehand  of  our  conditions  of  approach  and 
our  treatment  after  we  are  arrived.  He  lets  us  plainly 
know  that  it  is  not  to  any  mere  holiday  acquaintance 
that  He  summons  us.  Matchless  as  are  the  blessings 
He  has  to  give,  and  tender  beyond  conception  as  is 
the  love  which  prompts  His  proffer  of  them  to  us,  He 
yet  never  deludes  us  into  mistaking  the  terms.  With 
perfect  and  translucent  honesty  He  lets  us  know 
the  whole  case.  He  prefaces  His  pledge  with  its 
condition.  He  deals  with  us  squarely,  intelligibly. 
He  puts  things  as  they  are.  "Take  my  yoke  upon 
you  ;  and  ye  shall  find  rest  unto  your  souls." 

And,  after  all,  notwithstanding  the  general  tendency 
of  men  to  put  the  best  side  out  in  dealing  with  their 
fellowmen,  they  do  like  honesty  in  others.  They  are 
glad  to  know  just  what  they  can  depend  upon.  They 
prefer  to  touch  bottom,  even  if  the  bottom  be  ragged 
and  rocky,  rather  than  to  hang  over  uncertain  depths. 
And  so  it  awakens  a  kind  of  confidence  in  itself,  that 
Christ's  invitation  comes  just  as  it  does.  He  puts, — 
if  I  may  say  so, —  the  worst  side  out.  He  conceals 
nothing.  He  does  not  use  smooth  phrases  to  gloss 
over  rough  facts.  He  chooses  plain  words,  which  con- 
vey the  unmistakable  truth. 

He  tells  us  that  He  will  give  us  "rest";  but  the 
condition  of  it  is  our  bearing  a  "yoke,"  Not  a  badge, 
not  a  necklace,  not  a  ribbon,  not  an  epaulet, —  but  a 
yoke.  Just  that  lowly,  laborious,  constraining  thing 
which  we  bind  upon  the  unquestioning  dumb  creatures 
which  patiently  turn  the  sward  of  our  meadows  and 
drag  home  the  heavy-loaded  wagon  of  our  harvest 
fields.     And  yet  He  tells  us  that  wearing  this  yoke 


Il6  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEOX    WALKER,    D.D. 

will  bring  US  "rest."  Notwithstanding  it  is  a  yoke, 
we  shall  find  it  "easy." 

Let  us  think  of  this  matter  a  little.  Let  us  con- 
sider a  few  moments  just  what  this  yoke-bearing  does 
symbolize  and  signify.  Perhaps  we  shall  find  that  He 
who  was  accustomed  to  speak  "as  never  man  spake," 
did  not  depart  from  His  custom  even  in  this  case. 
Perhaps  we  may  come  to  see  how  the  shortest  and  the 
surest  way  for  any  of  us  who  are  troubled  and  "  weary," 
to  find  peace  and  "rest,"  is  to  do  just  this  thing  the 
Master  bids  us, —  put  on  the  yoke  of  His  true  disciple- 
ship. 

Notice  as  one  thing,  then,  that  the  yoke  of  Christ 
signifies  submission. 

True  Christian  experience  has  many  points  of  varia- 
tion. The  diversity  of  men's  temperament  and  of 
their  histories  lays  the  foundation  for  an  almost  end- 
less diversity  of  detail  in  the  particular  items  of  reli- 
gious feeling  which  may  characterize  equally  sincere 
Christians.  But  there  are  a  few  great  points  which 
are  substantially  identical.  Among  them  is  this  of 
submission  of  self  to  Christ. 

Inquirers  after  the  religious  life  sometimes  come 
asking:  "Must  I  have  just  such  an  experience  as  I 
read  of  in  such  a  memoir,  or  hear  described  by  such  a 
brother  or  sister  of  the  church,  before  I  may  regard 
myself  as  a  Christian  ?  "  "  No,"  I  answer,  "  I  have  no 
warrant  to  affirm  that  :  nor  have  you  any  need  to  delay 
your  hope  because  your  experience  does  not  in  all 
points  agree  with  that  of  any  living  soul.  But  there  is 
one  thing  you  must  have.  Underneath  all  possible 
diversities,  true  Christian  experience  does  involve  sub- 
mission to  Christ.     Surrender, —  that    cannot    be  dis- 


SERMONS. 


n7 


pensed  with.  However  various  may  be  other  emo- 
tions,—  the  sense  of  guilt,  for  example,  or  the  fear  of 
retribution, —  this  feeling,  the  soul  truly  taking  hold 
of  Christ  will  have ;  a  feeling  of  its  helpless  need  of 
Him,  and  an  utter  giving  up  of  self  to  Him.  Sur- 
render, yielding,  putting  on  His  yoke,  that  is  the  one 
central  and  essential  fact  of  Christian  experience. 

I  said  "Christian  experience,"  my  hearers;  but  now 
I  say  that  human  experience  knows  nothing  more 
blessed  than  just  that  experience  of  surrender.  Christ 
said  it  would  bring  "rest,"  and  it  does  bring  it.  For 
it  is  not  self-assertion,  victory,  achievement,  which 
brings  us  our  truest  bliss.  Our  self  is  too  mean,  our 
victories  too  small,  our  achievements  too  pitiable  for 
them  ever  to  be  a  really  contenting  satisfaction.  Our 
best  joy  is  in  yielding  to  and  reverencing  something 
nobler  and  better  than  ourselves.  We  get  glimpses 
of  the  blessedness  of  this  submission  in  the  relation- 
ships of  the  present.  The  really  filial  child  is  glad- 
der by  far  in  yielding  his  ignorant  will  to  the  wiser 
will  of  his  parent,  than  in  blindly  asserting  his  own. 
Our  subtle  poet,  Tennyson, —  writing  of  the  relation 
of  friend  to  friend  in  the  mere  giving  and  receiving  of 
knowledge, —  says  :  — 

And  what  delights  can  equal  those 
That  stir  the  spirit's  inner  deeps, 
When  one  that  loves,  but  knows  not,  reaps 

A  truth  from  one  that  loves  and  knows  ? 

So,  too, —  though  on  a  vastly  higher  plane,  and  with 
a  self-surrender  infinitely  more  complete, —  there  is  no 
one  act  of  possible  human  experience  so  full  of  rest 
and  sweetness  as  the  act  of  entire  self-surrender  to 


Il8  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

Christ.  Looking  out  of  its  weakness  to  His  strength, 
out  of  its  sin  to  His  holiness,  out  of  its  loss  to  His 
plenitude  of  help,  and  utterly  casting  itself  upon  Him, 
the  soul  of  man  is  touched  with  an  indescribable  calm 
and  joy.  The  act  is  an  exceeding  humble  one,  but  no 
proud  achievements  ever  brought  such  results. 

Notice  another  point.  The  yoke  of  Christ  signifies 
restraint.  The  wearer  of  a  yoke  is  one  under  control. 
He  has  upon,  him  the  symbol  of  a  government. 

And  Christ  suffers  no  one  who  comes  to  Him  to 
evade  this  condition  of  discipleship.  All  who  are  His 
are  under  His  direction.  Let  no  man  make  a  mistake 
on  this  point,  and  imagine  that  all  that  Christ  requires 
of  him  is  some  single  act  of  submission,  and  that  after 
that  he  is  free  to  make  his  own  laws  and  go  his  own 
way.  Christ  tells  us  plainly  otherwise  when  He  says  : 
"Take  my  yoke  upon  you."  That  direction  means 
not  something  transient,  not  something  gone  by,  not 
something  which  can  be  put  off  and  taken  on  at  choice. 
It  means  the  constant,  life-long  control  and  guidance 
of  a  law  supreme  over  personal  will,  of  an  authority 
unquestioned  and  unquestionable  in  its  claims. 

Now  just  here,  undoubtedly,  it  is  not  unfrequent  to 
see  an  obstinate  will  make  a  stand.  If  it  were  only  a 
question  of  momentary  homage,  of  an  act  done  once 
under  the  pressure  of  an  intense  emotion,  and  then 
things  were  to  be  as  before,  such  a  will  perhaps  would 
be  inclined  to  submit.  But  to  enter  into  a  compact  of 
eternal  obedience,  to  enthrone  an  authority  whose 
legislation  shall  reach  to  all  events  of  life,  this  it  hesi- 
tates to  do.  And  exceedingly  stout,  sometimes,  are 
the  words  one  hears  from  that  small  mote  in  God's 
universe  called  "man,"  in  denunciation  of  such  sub- 


SERMONS.  119 

jection  to  restraint,  as  "mean,"  "craven,"  "unworthy." 
Yet  is  submission  to  rightful  authority  mean  ?  Is 
obedience  to  wise  law  craven  ?  Is  it  an  unworthy 
thing  to  do,  to  yield  to  a  command  which  withholds 
merely  from  evil  ?  Is  a  government  which  constrains 
a  man  only  to  his  good,  and  restrains  him  only  from 
his  harm,  just  the  kind  of  government  against  which 
peremptorily  to  rebel  ? 

It  is  not  so  !  It  is  obedience  to  wise  rule  which  is 
the  noble  thing.  It  is  acquiescence  in  kind  restraint 
which  is  the  thing  of  privilege.  The  freedom  to  obey 
behests  worthy  to  be  obeyed  is  the  freedom  which  one 
needs. 

So  when  Christ  comes  to  us  saying  "  Take  my  yoke 
upon  you,"  He  utters  a  command  indeed,  but  a  com- 
mand which  is  as  sweet  as  any  promise.  It  is  a  law 
certainly.  It  has  all  the  attributes  of  a  statute.  It 
searches  deep,  it  reaches  wide,  it  is  rigorous  and 
escapeless  in  its  control.  But  it  is  a  law  which  has  a 
heart.  It  seeks  our  welfare  more  tenderly  than  does  a 
mother,  and  not  a  behest  it  utters  but  has  its  motive 
in  our  good. 

And  so  it  is  that  the  man  who  wears  the  yoke  of 
Christ  is  the  man  at  peace.  Law,  indeed,  holds  him  ; 
but  holds  him  to  the  right.  The  rule  of  the  Master 
restrains  him  ;  but  it  restrains  him  only  from  wrong. 
And  the  more  completely  he  knows  himself  the  more 
he  sees  his  need  of  such  a  law.  The  main  solicitude 
he  feels  is  to  see,  not  on  how  few,  but  on  how  many  of 
the  affairs  of  life,  he  may  discern  that  Law  of  Christ, 
exercising  its  restrictive  and  constraining  sway. 

But,  as  one  point  more,  observe  that  the  yoke  of 
Christ  signifies  employment. 


120  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D, 

The  patient  yoke-bearers  of  the  ploughing  time  or 
of  the  harvest-days  are  harnessed  thus  not  to  express 
subjection,  but  to  fulfil  service.  The  end  of  yoke- 
wearing  is  utility.  And  it  is  in  Christian  life  as  in 
the  tillage  of  the  fields.  Christ  calls  men  to  take  His 
yoke  upon  them  that  they  may  do  His  work.  He  has 
use  for  His  people.  The  vocation  to  which  He  sum- 
mons them  is  one  of  labor.  So  far,  certainly,  as  the 
earthly  aspect  of  His  calling  of  men  is  concerned,  the 
chief  object  He  has  in  view  is  to  gain,  in  every  new 
disciple  of  His  Gospel,  a  new  worker  in  His  cause. 

Here  again,  doubtless,  we  find  men  oftentimes  mak- 
ing a  stand.  If  a  submission  to  Christ's  yoke  were 
only  a  passive  matter, —  something  that  could  be  just 
quietly  experienced,  something  which  interfered  with 
no  other  plans,  and  required  no  strenuous  and  outgoing 
endeavors, —  there  are  those  who  now  decline  it,  who 
might  be  not  unwilling  to  put  it  on.  But  putting  on 
the  yoke  is  not  a  matter  like  that.  It  is  no  thing  of 
mere  passive  experience  or  holiday  pastime.  It  is 
equipment  for  labor.  It  is  a  harnessing  of  the  whole 
man  to  earnest  and  lifelong  employment.  And  Christ 
leaves  no  room  for  doubt  that  it  is  just  to  that  quality 
and  duration  of  service  that  He  summons  every  dis- 
ciple. He  entraps  no  one  into  an  unexpected  method 
or  intensity  of  occupation.  His  call  is  open  and  un- 
mistakable :  "  Take  my  yoke  upon  you." 

But  in  requiring  this  does  He  frustrate  men's  hope 
of  happiness  ?  Does  he  make  impossible  the  realiza- 
tion of  the  promise:  "I  will  give  you  rest,"  which  in 
the  self-same  utterance  He  couples  with  His  com- 
mand ?  Oh  !  how  little  they  know  of  the  blessedness 
of  Christian  servin<r  who  think  so !     How  little  that 


SERMONS.  121 

man  can  have  entered  into  the  secret  of  self-sacrifice, 
and  the  sweet  mystery  of  labor  for  Christ,  who  sup- 
jDoses  that  yoke-bearing  in  the  Gospel  is  a  sorrowful 
and  dejecting  thing  ! 

Ask  the  sun-browned  toilers  who  have  gone  forth 
from  English  and  American  homes  to  bear  to  equa- 
torial climes  the  better  manners  and  the  purer  faith  of 
our  Christian  lands.  Ask  the  earnest  Gospel  laborer 
among  ourselves  whether  in  the  public  or  the  private 
sphere,  in  the  pulpit  or  in  the  market,  in  the  home-circle, 
or  in  the  Sabbath-school.  Ask  your  own  heart,  pro- 
fessed follower  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  as  you  recall  the  bet- 
ter moments  and  the  most  satisfying  actions  of  your  life. 
There  is  but  one  answer:  "His  yoke  is  easy  and  His 
burden  is  light !  "  The  toil  of  the  Lord  is  blessedness 
and  repose.  Though  in  it  the  "  outward  man  "  may 
"  perish,"  the  "  inward  man  "  is  "  renewed  day  by  day." 
And  when,  from  the  last  confine  and  boundary  of 
mortal  life,  the  departing  soul  looks  backward  to  find 
the  best  of  its  earthly  hours,  it  will  find  it  in  that  one 
in  which  it  bore  most  patiently  and  laboriously  the 
Saviour's  yoke.  Then  it  will  not  be  the  day  of  self- 
pleasing  and  refusal  of  service  which  will  be  the  day 
of  happy  remembrance,  nor  will  that  day  be  remem- 
bered as  having  been  the  happiest  in  its  passing  flight. 
That  place  will  be  filled  in  memory  by  the  day, — 
whatever  its  outward  weariness  or  adversity, —  in 
which  you  did  the  truest  and  hardest  service  of  your 
life  for  Christ. 

One  practical  inquiry  comes  to  us  before  we  end. 

We  have  seen  that  the  yoke  of  Christ  signifies  to  us 
submission,  restraint,  employment.  These  are  three 
important,  and,  as   I   have  endeavored  also   to  show, 


122  REVERtND    GEORGE    LEOX    WALKER,    D.D. 

three  most  happy  experiences.  But  when  ought  they 
to  be  experienced  ?  What  time  is  the  best  time  to 
take  on  that  yoke  of  submission,  restraint,  and  em- 
ployment, to  which  the  Saviour  summons  us  ? 

I  will  answer  first  for  those  of  mature  years  in  this 
congregation.  For  them  the  answer  is  "at  once." 
Now  is  the  time  to  do  it ;  and  for  this  plain  reason,  if 
for  no  other,  that  there  is  no  other  time  in  which  it  can 
be  done.  Life  has  already  largely  gone.  There  is  only 
a  narrow  margin  of  earthly  duration  left.  And  if  the 
great  experience  of  submission  to  Christ  is  yet  unmet, 
there  is  only  a  brief  fragment  of  existence  remaining 
in  which  it  possibly  can  be  met.  If  His  restraining 
and  transforming  sway  has  not  yet  been  felt  upon  the 
soul,  there  are  only  a  few  more  years,  or  it  may  be 
months,  in  which  it  can  be  felt.  If  employment  in  His 
service  has  never  begun,  the  period  of  service  can  at 
the  utmost  be  but  short.  The  shadow  of  sunset  is 
already  slanting  eastward.  Therefore  now  is  the  time. 
To  the  more  aged  of  this  assembly,  the  admonition 
comes  with  the  solemnity  of  an  injunction  which 
knows  no  alternative  and  can  admit  of  no  delay.  Take 
the  yoke  of  Christ  upon  you,  and  at  once ! 

But  for  the  young .?  What  is  the  time  when  the 
young  should  come  to  those  experiences  of  submission, 
restraint,  and  employment,  which  are  implied  in  a  true 
bearing  of  the  yoke  of  Christ  ?  For  a  different  reason 
from  that  which  has  just  been  assigned  in  the  case  of 
the  old,  but  a  reason  almost  equally  cogent,  the  same 
answer  must  be  given.  The  time  is  "now."  The 
yoke  of  Christ,  in  all  its  completeness  of  meaning, 
should  be  taken  on  at  once. 

For,  my  youthful  hearers,  if  the  bearing  of  the  yoke 


SKRMONS.  123 

of  Christ  is,  as  He  asserts,  a  privilege,  an  honor,  and  a 
satisfaction  surpassing  all  others,  then  the  sooner  you 
assume  and  the  longer  and  more  faithfully  you  wear 
that  symbol  of  a  true  discipleship,  the  better  and  hap- 
pier for  you.  And  why  should  you  delay  ?  Why 
should  some  of  you  who  stand  outside  the  Church's 
precincts,  longer  postpone  the  submission  of  yourselves 
to  the  will  of  Christ  and  the  yielding  of  your  lives  to 
His  guiding  and  restraining  hand?  And  why  should 
others  of  you  who  are  numbered  of  the  visible  fellow- 
ship withhold  yourselves  from  the  active  employments 
of  His  service,  and  decline  to  press  hard  and  patiently 
against  the  yoke  you  already  profess  to  wear  ? 

Why  is  it  so  ?  Oh !  my  friends,  it  makes  a  Chris- 
tian pastor  sad  and  sick  at  heart  to  receive  the  answers 
to  this  question  which  he  frequently  does  receive  from 
the  lips  of  some.  You  excuse  yourselves  because  you 
are  young.  It  is  offered  as  an  apology  for  a  declina- 
ture of  active  and  consecrated  yoke-bearing  for  Christ, 
that  you  are  yet  in  the  morning  of  life.  Of  such,  it  is 
urged,  a  full  and  earnest  devotion  is  not  to  be  expected- 
To  ask  for  sober  and  manly  and  unwavering  consecra- 
tion to  the  service  of  Jesus  is  to  expect  too  much  of 
those  so  young ! 

So  young  !  As  if  Christ's  salvation  were  a  salvation 
for  gray  hairs  alone  !  As  if  Christ's  love  could  enter 
and  fill  an  aged  heart  only  !  As  if  Christ's  grace  was 
not  adapted  to  renew  and  empower  a  man  or  woman 
till  failing  years  had  sapped  the  body's  vigor  and  dulled 
the  appetites  for  earthly  joy  !  So  young  !  As  if  that 
were  not  the  very  reason  rather  why  you  might  with 
most  appropriateness  and  success  devote  yourselves  to 
the  honor  and  the  privilege  of  Christ's  blessed  service  ! 


124  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

As  if,  instead  of  being  a  hindrance,  youth  were  not  a 
special  argument  to  urge  immediate  entrance  on  a 
labor  so  full  of  an  undecaying  happiness  and  reward  ! 

Yet  if  it  were  possible  to  regard  a  certain  extremity 
of  youthfulness  as,  indeed,  affording  a  valid  excuse 
from  earnest  devotion  to  Christ's  service,  is  this  an 
excuse  which  can  avail  for  many  of  you  ?  What 
tokens  of  devotion  to  Christ  have  been  given  by 
younger  souls  than  any  numbered  of  this  Church  ? 
Younger  than  any  of  this  fellowship  were  scores  of 
either  sex  who  won  a  martyr's  crown  and  burned  to 
cinders  at  the  stake.  Younger  than  any  among  us 
have  been  hundreds  of  Jesus's  followers  whose  souls, 
turning  in  childhood  upward  to  God,  have  been  like  an 
altar-flame  of  devotion,  which  no  lapses  of  time  or 
seductions  of  the  world  could  make  dim.  Younger 
than  any  man  of  thirty-two  in  this  congregation  was 
Henry  Martyn,  dying  in  distant  Asia  Minor  outworn 
in  service  in  India  and  Persia,  across  and  across  which, 
—  like  one  incapable  of  rest, —  he  had  borne  the  Gos- 
pel of  Calvary.  Younger  than  any  man  of  twenty- 
seven  in  this  assembly  was  John  Calvin  when  he 
sketched  the  outlines  of  his  immortal  Institutes,  the 
fruit  of  years-long  study  into  the  deep  things  of  God  ! 
Younger  than  any  youth  of  twenty-three  in  this  house 
was  Harlan  Page  when  he  could  give  as  one  of  the 
reasons  of  his  willingness  to  remove  from  one  home  to 
another  that  he  "  had  personally  done  his  utmost,  by 
direct  individual  endeavor,  for  the  salvation  of  every 
person  in  the  town  where  he  lived."  Younger  than 
any  woman  of  twenty  in  this  congregation  was  that 
girl,  dwelling  once  on  the  corner  of  New  Haven's  elm- 
surrounded  Green  ;  and  afterward  the  wife  of  Amer- 


SERMONS. 


125 


ica's  greatest  theologian,  Jonathan  Edwards,  when  she 
walked  with  God,  as  one  who  "almost  saw  Him  face 
to  face,"  and  who  dwelt  in  His  presence  as  with  a 
familiar  friend. 

And  as  we  look  out  on  to  the  earnest  ranks  of  men 
and  women  in  the  world  about  us  who  are  now, —  in 
Church,  in  Sunday-school,  in  mission  fields,  in  prayer- 
meetings,  in  the  highway,  at  home,  abroad, —  carrying- 
on  the  work  of  the  Lord  and  wearing  the  yoke  of 
Jesus,  what  a  proportion  of  them  are  of  youthful  years. 
From  how  many  thousand  such  lives,  to-day,  comes  a 
word  of  solemn  reproof  and  searching,  though  unin- 
tended condemnation,  to  any  among  us  who,  older  in 
years,  seem  not  yet  to  have  learned  that  existence  is  a 
serious  business ;  and,  longer  within  sound  of  the  Mas- 
ter's call,  have  not  yet  put  our  shoulder  to  the  yoke  of 
service ! 

Oh  !  youthful  members  of  this  congregation,  redeem 
the  time !  Live  not  as  those  who  have  no  higher  pur- 
pose than  the  frivolities  of  the  hour.  Youth-time  is 
precious.  Early  years  are  of  exceeding  worth. 
Devoted  to  the  Master's  service  they  will  be  bright 
with  happy  usefulness  and  deathless  with  eternal 
rewards. 


126  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 


VII. 

REDEEMING  THE  TIME.* 

Ephesiaxs  V :  15.   16. 

See  then  that  ye  walk  circumspectly^  not  as  fools,  but  as  wise, 
redeeming  the  time,  because  the  days  are  evil. 

The  striking  figure  which  Paul  here  employs  con- 
cerning the  treatment  of  time  would  be  suited,  I  think, 
at  any  period  to  arrest  attention.  But  it  has  a  par- 
ticular pertinence  to  us  to-day,  standing  as  we  do  within 
a  few  fast-flying  hours  of  the  close  of  one  of  those 
f^reat  subdivisions  of  duration  which  the  order  of 
nature  and  the  common  usages  of  business  and  of 
society  make  it  habitual  in  us  to  recognize. 

The  figure  Paul  uses  is  taken  from  a  transaction 
familiar  in  all  the  market-places  of  the  ancient  world. 
That  was  a  world  of  war  and  slavery.  After  every 
considerable  territorial  conquest  by  any  successful 
military  power  great  multitudes  of  the  inhabitants  of 
the  conquered  districts  were  seized  upon  as  the  chattel 
property  of  the  victors.  The  State  claimed  its  share. 
The  commanding  general  had  his  apportionment. 
Officers  of  less  degree,  each  in  his  successive  rank, 
took,  as  a  part  of  the  spoils  of  war,  a  number,  less  or 
more  according  to  the  total  to  be  divided,  of  these 


*  Written  in   1888,  and  preaclied  on  the  last  Sunday  of  the 
year. 


SERMONS. 


I  27 


human  goods  for  their  personal  share.  Such  as  they 
chose  to  keep,  they  kept.  Such  as  they  chose  to  sell; 
they  sold.  The  great  market  centers  once  glutted, 
the  smaller  towns  over  the  whole  empire  were  sup- 
plied with  detachments,  either  on  public  or  private 
account,  till  the  capacities  of  buyers  or  sellers  were 
temporarily  exhausted.  In  such  a  provincial  town  as 
Tarsus,  for  example,  in  Paul's  boyhood  and  youth,  the 
spectacle  must  have  been  familiar  almost  as  the  com- 
ing of  morning,  of  the  exposure  in  the  market-place  of 
the  city  of  some  group  of  sad-eyed  captives, —  men, 
women,  and  children, —  from  Germany,  successfully 
swept  by  the  armies  of  Germanicus  ;  from  Thrace, 
reduced,  a  little  before  Paul  came  of  age,  to  the  condi- 
tion of  a  Roman  province  ;  or  even  (several  years  pre- 
vious to  writing  the  words  of  our  text)  from  Britain, 
invaded,  and  in  parts  ravaged,  by  the  troops  of  Aulus 
Plautius  and  of  Vespasian. 

And  there,  on  any  one  of  those  days,  might  have 
been  seen  the  transaction  which  gave  Paul  the  strik- 
ing metaphor  which  has  attracted  our  attention  to-day. 
Some  one  coming  into  the  market-place  beholds  the 
groups  of  bond-slaves  there  put  on  exhibition — a  stal- 
wart dark-haired  man  from  Thrace,  a  blue-eyed  girl 
from  Northern  Germany,  or  perhaps  a  child  of  that 
Gallic  blood  whose  gray  eyes  and  dark  lashes  are  the 
beauty  of  an  occasional  modern  Irish  face.  Moved  by 
whatever  sentiment,  pity,  cupidity,  or  what  not,  the 
visitor  pays  down  the  price  and  redeems  the  captive, 
redeems  him  sometimes  to  liberty,  redeems  him  oftener 
only  to  another  servitude,  but  anyway  redeems  him  out 
of  the  bondage  in  which  he  has  hitherto  been  subjected 
to  a  master  whose  helpless  and  utter  chattel  he  was. 


128  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

So,  says  the  Apostle  to  the  Christians  of  Ephesus, 
who  must  have  been  perfectly  familiar  with  transac- 
tions like  these,  so  deal  with  your  time.  Take  it  out 
of  the  bondage  in  which  it  is,  out  of  its  place  and  con- 
dition of  chattelhood  ;  and  redeem  it  to  its  proper  and 
appointed  uses.  The  illustration,  borrowed  from  the 
slave  market,  which  the  Apostle  employed  is,  happily, 
less  familiar  than  it  once  was ;  though  quite  within 
the  memory  of  the  majority  of  us  here  present  to-day 
it  could  have  been  paralleled  in  a  considerable  part  of 
our  so-called  Christian  land.  But  were  Paul  writing  a 
letter  now,  rather  than  eighteen  centuries  and  a  quar- 
ter ago,  and  to  this  First  Church  of  Hartford  instead  of 
to  that  prosperous  Church  of  Asia  Minor,  could  he 
possibly  describe  the  condition  of  time,  as  it  is  with 
us,  by  a  delineation  more  truthful  than  that  which 
depicts  it  as  in  bondage  ?  Could  he  point  out  a  duty 
more  imperativ^e  or  more  worthy  of  consideration  in 
these  flying  moments  of  the  closing  year,  than  its 
redemption  to  a  Christian  liberty .'' 

For,  my  hearers,  is  it  not,  in  point  of  fact,  the 
great  and  common  experience, —  certainly  of  almost 
all  of  us  who  are  gathered  here  to-day, —  that  we  our- 
selves find  that  this  unique  and  priceless  possession  of 
time  is,  in  manifold  ways,  bound,  mortgaged,  capti- 
vated,—  to  use  a  word  which  has  somewhat  drifted 
away  from  its  former  significance  in  its  older  and 
etymological  employment, —  captivated  to  interests 
and  occupations  from  which  we  find  it  almost  impossi- 
ble to  rescue  it .'' 

Ask  the  man  of  business  to  give  you  an  hour  to  pre- 
sent the  claims  of  some  philanthropic  enterprise,  or 
requests  him   to  undertake  some   regularly  recurrent 


SERMONS. 


129 


service  which  will  demand  the  setting  apart  to  its  use 
of  a  small  segment  of  one  day  of  every  week,  and  you 
are,  very  probably,  stopped  on  the  threshold  of  your 
plea  by  the  declaration, —  honestly  enough  made  too, — 
that  he  "  hasn't  time  "  for  the  hearing  you  solicit  or  for 
the  service  you  propose.  Very  likely  he  will  give  you 
a  contribution  for  the  benevolent  enterprise  without 
hearing  about  it,  and  will  feel  a  certain  pang  of  regret 
at  peremptorily  putting  aside  your  proposal  for  the 
hour's  weekly  employment ;  but  he  puts  it  aside  all 
the  same,  for  the  Philistines  of  business  have  him  in 
bondage  and  he  has  to  grind  in  their  mill,  as  blind  as 
Samson,  almost,  to  anything  beside. 

Ask  the  busy  woman  of  society  for  some  coopera- 
tion in  a  Christian  undertaking  which  cannot  but 
appeal  to  her  both  as  a  woman  and  a  Christian,  and 
she  finds  the  silken  bands  which  the  demands  of  con- 
ventional obligations  have  woven  about  her  almost  as 
inexorable  as  the  iron  chains  of  a  physical  servitude, 
in  laying  an  embargo  upon  her  assenting  endeavor. 

Propose  to  the  appointed  officers  of  a  Christian 
Church, —  the  illustration  must  be  fresh  in  the  memory 
of  at  least  ten  men  in  this  congregation, —  a  service 
strenuously  demanded  by  the  fellowship  of  the 
churches,  or  a  work  in  behalf  of  the  Church  itself 
whose  ofificers  they  are,  and  observe  how  the  declina- 
tion passes  from  lip  to  lip  of  as  good  men  as  can  be 
found  in  any  Church  membership  of  five  hundred  any- 
where because  of  the  demands  upon  their  time  already 
existing,  and  tasking  them  to  the  full. 

Ah,  yes,  what  a  common  experience  this  is !  How 
fettered  and  captivated  time  is  with  almost  all  of  us  ! 
No  wonder  a  brilliant  woman  of  a  name  familiar  to 


IT^O  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

you  all,  engaged  in  a  great,  though  quixotic,  literary 
enterprise,  and  whose  heroic-pathetic  story,  known  to 
many  of  us  long,  is  just  now  more  publicly  unveiled  to 
the  general  eye,  sighed  for  a  life  in  one  of  those  tardier 
moving  planets  —  Jupiter  or  Saturn — whose  slow-re- 
volving day  would  give  supposedly  longer  time  for 
work !  For,  indeed,  when  one  really  thinks  of  it,  what 
a  scanty  segment  of  duration  it  is  between  the  cradle 
and  the  grave  that  a  man  has  to  put  into  bonds  to  any 
kind  of  continuous  endeavor !  Deduct  from  the  nar- 
row span  the  irresponsible  years  of  infancy  and  early 
childhood  ;  take  out  of  it  the  great  section  continually 
demanded  by  sleep  ;  subtract  the  large  portion  inevita- 
bly employed  in  whatever  is  necessary  to  keep  the 
machinery  of  existence  itself  going  ;  add  yet  further  to 
this  discount  side  all  that  is  snatched  away  by  illness 
or  pilfered  by  accident,  and  then  consider  the  portion 
incapacitated  by  old  age,  and  how  small  a  fraction 
there  is  left  for  direct  and  intentional  employment  in 
any  endeavor !  I  think  I  have  said  once  in  this  pulpit 
before,  but  no  matter,  the  statement  is  worth  repeat- 
ing every  twelvemonth  at  least,  that  a  writer  pro- 
foundly acquainted  with  the  history  of  literary  men, 
Thomas  DeOuincey,  estimated  that,  after  making  the 
deductions  incident  to  every  life,  the  sum  total  of 
absolutely  available  time  the  most  industrious  literary 
man  of  seventy  can  be  supposed  to  have  employed  in 
any  voluntary  literary  enterprise  is  not  more  than 
eleven  solid  years.  Mercantile  men  commonly  enter 
on  what  may  be  called  the  real  occupation  of  life  at  a 
somewhat  earlier  age  than  do  men  of  a  literary  pro- 
fession. But  then,  they  do  not  generally  practice  so 
fully  that    expedient    for   lengthening   one's    days    of 


SERMONS.  I^X 

which  Charles  Lamb  wittily  said  that  it  was  best 
accomplished  by  taking  them  out  of  one's  nights,  so 
that  the  practical  span  of  actual  endeavor  is  not  much 
longer.  To  what  narrow  compass  does  that  shut  up 
one's  history.  And  when  that  span  is  bound  to  the 
tremendous,  exacting  labors  of  competitive  business 
or  professional  endeavor,  or  even  of  conventional  society, 
how  hard  it  is  to  redeem  any  portion  out  of  that  servi- 
tude to  any  other  employment  how  sacred  or  impera- 
tive whatsoever  ! 

Nevertheless,  the  pressing  necessity  of  some  kind 
of  emancipatory  process  in  behalf  of  at  least  a  portion 
of  our  time,  and  in  view  of  interests  now  suffering  by 
its  bondage,  is  a  necessity  which  comes  home  occa- 
sionally, I  suppose,  to  most  of  us.  Very  few  people 
look  back  from  a  point  of  advanced  or  even  of  middle 
life  over  the  track  by  which  they  have  come,  feeling 
anything  like  complete  satisfaction  with  the  propor- 
tionate employment  of  their  days.  Even  if  the  broad 
outline  of  their  past  is  reasonably  contenting,  and  the 
use  which  they  have  made  of  their  time  is  that  to 
which,  in  great  measure,  they  have  been  shut  up  by 
the  circumstances  of  their  days,  still  the  men  and 
women  of  mature  years  must  be  very  few  who  do  not 
wish  that  they  had  ransomed  and  employed  some 
possible  portions  at  least  of  that  now  irrecoverable 
past  to  other  and  higher  uses  than  have  actually  been 
served. 

And  this  general  and  almost  instinctive  feeling  that 
some  such  redemptive  rescue  of  time  should  have 
marked  our  vanished  days,  which  is  felt  by  the  least 
considering  of  men  and  women,  is  emphasized  for  the 
more  thoughtful  by  remembrances  that  only  increase 


1-52  REVER]:XD    GKORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

in  weight  the  more  they  are  pondered.  For  the  recol- 
lection comes  home  with  the  added  testimony  of  per- 
sonal experience,  to  such  a  thoughtfully  considering 
mind,  that  of  all  possible  possessions  a  man  can  ever 
have,  it  is  his  possession  of  time  which  is  most  valua- 
ble. It  is  this  which  is  the  indispensable  condition  of 
all  others.  It  is  that  mysterious  inheritance  on  which 
all  others  depend,  and  on  the  continuance  of  which 
everything  else  hinges.  The  highest  puipose  is  fruit- 
less unless  there  is  time  to  permit  it  to  bear  its 
intended  harvest.  The  most  resolved  endeavor  and 
impassioned  action  are  alike  frustrate  does  not  time 
afford  them  arena  for  their  proper  exercise.  How  full 
is  the  memory  of  any  thoughtful  man  fifty  years  old, 
of  instances  which  have  occurred  under  his  j^ersonal 
observation,  of  noble  purposes  resultless,  and  high 
attempts  made  vain  for  lack  of  time.  "  O  my  book,  my 
book" — said  poor  Buckle,  dying  at  thirty-nine  years 
of  age — "I  shall  never  finish  my  book," — a  book 
the  loss  of  which  so  competent  a  judge  as  Mr.  Lecky 
says  is  "  one  of  the  most  serious  misfortunes  which 
have  ever  befallen  English  literature."  And  in  lesser 
ways,  and  over  smaller  intended  undertakings,  that  is 
a  lament  which  is  forever  sounding  in  the  ears  of 
every  man  not  stone  deaf  to  what  goes  on  in  him  and 
about  him  in  this  world. 

This  indispensableness  of  time  as  the  condition  of 
the  fulfillment  of  any  enterprise  is  just  as  true  in 
religious  things  as  in  any  others.  How  strangely  this 
is  sometimes  forgotten  !  Men  seem  to  think  that 
spiritual  welfares  and  acquisitions  are  some  way  exempt 
from  that  general  law  which  they  recognize  as  pre- 
vailing elsewhere,  the  law  that  the  possession  of  any- 


SERMONS.  1^3 

thing  worth  having  is  the  fruit  of  endeavor  (some  one's 
endeavor)  through  prolonged  periods  of  time.  The 
attainment  of-  knowledge  is  the  result  of  the  indus- 
trious employment  of  time.  The  accumulation  of 
wealth  depends  on  time.  But  religion  can  be  got  in 
a  moment.  Piety  comes  in  a  kind  of  instantaneous 
cataclysm  of  the  soul.  The  life  of  godliness  in  the 
spirit  can  be  adequately  nourished  on  the  scraps  and 
accidental  waste  bits  of  duration  which  fall  from  a 
life-history  devoted  primarily  to  other  employments,  as 
the  dogs  eat  the  crumbs  that  fall  from  the  master's 
table.  Oh  !  what  a  low  and  disastrously  erroneous 
notion  of  the  spiritual  life  this  is.  To  what  a  pitiable 
piece  of  quackery  and  magic  does  it  reduce  the  divinest 
experience  and  the  highest  acquirement  possible  to 
man !  Religion,  like  everything  else  worth  having, 
demands  time.  The  attainments  of  piety  no  more 
than  the  attainments  of  knowledge  can  dispense  with 
time.  Out  of  the  inexorable  conditions  of  the  spirit- 
ual life,  as  much  as  out  of  those  of  the  physical  and 
intellectual,  sounds  the  urgent  declaration  that  of  all 
possible  possessions,  none  a  man  can  have  can  be  so 
indispensable  as  time.  Nowhere  more  than  in  refer- 
ence to  the  needs  of  the  soul  is  the  redemption  of 
time  to  distinct,  purposeful  employment,  for  definite 
spiritual  ends,  a  condition  of  the  attainment  of  any 
satisfying  result. 

Yet  this  worth  of  time  which  is  so  brought  to  mind 
by  a  perception  of  its  indispensability  to  the  securing 
of  the  objects  which  a  religious  life,  as  much  as  any 
other  life,  has  in  view,  has  always  been  vividly  brought 
home  to  my  own  mind  by  a  consideration  of  a  char- 
acter   somewhat     different    from    that    we    have    iust 


134 


r!':\-|':renu  george  eeon   walkick,  d.d. 


noted.  This  is  a  consideration  of  what  the  actual 
period  of  duration  which  we  ourselves  have  had,  and 
have  used, —  perhaps  with  a  quality  and  intensity  of 
employment  that  does  not  altogether  fill  us  with  self- 
gratulation  to-day, —  has  done  for  some  other  men  and 
women  in  their  spiritual  histories.  All  along  parallel 
with  our  own,  other  lives  have  run.  Through  the  same 
identical  moments  which  we  have  passed,  they  passed 
also.  And  what  lives  some  of  them  have  been. 
Marked  by  what  achievements.  Heroic  with  what 
self-sacrifices.  Beneficent  with  what  Christlike  deeds  ! 
At  the  very  time  when  we  were  idling  away  our  days 
in  slothfulness,  or  grinding  in  the  mill  of  a  merely 
material  or  private  welfare,  some  men  here  and  there 
were  solicitously  redeeming  those  identical  moments, 

—  for  we  had  the  same  and  an  equal  number  of  them, 

—  to  a  spiritual  and  eternal  good.  Some  of  them  are 
in  heaven  to-day,  and  surrounded  there  by  souls  won 
thither  by  their  endeavors,  because  of  their  employ- 
ment of  the  precise  hours  which  we  spent  in  pursuits 
for  which  we  have  perhaps  nothing  now  to  show,  and 
certainly  nothing  to  put  in  comparison  with  the  results 
of  their  endeavors.  Right  alongside  of  us,  embar- 
rassed by  all  the  difficulties  which  we  encounter,  against 
all  obstacles  which  stood  in  their  path  as  much  as  in 
ours,  they  redeemed  the  time, —  the  time  that  was 
once  our  own, —  to  ends  which  will  make  rejoicings  in 
heaven  forever.  Ah  me  !  is  there  anything  which  can 
give  us  a  more  vivid  sense  of  the  possible  worth  which 
may  lie  in  the  flying  years  of  one  short  life,  or  a  more 
humiliating  sense  of  our  employment  of  those  self- 
same years,  than  some  simple  biography  of  men  or 
women    who    lived    through    periods    which    were    in 


SERMONS. 


135 


greater  or  less  extent  identically  and  consciously  our 
own  ?  What  they  were  and  did  !  what  we  did  and 
were !  Time  must  be  a  priceless  thing,  since  its 
redemption,  by  these  souls,  can  bring  about  such 
glorious  ends  ! 

But  now  having  perhaps  vivified  a  little  in  our  minds 
the  sense  of  that  bondage  wherein  our  time  is  held 
captive,  and  having  somewhat,  I  hope,  quickened  our 
apprehension  of  the  exceeding  worth  of  that  which  we 
are  exhorted  by  the  Apostle  to  redeem  to  nobler  uses, 
the  question  comes  to  us  as  a  most  practical  one  : 
Can  we  do  it  ?  How  can  it  be  done  ?  By  what 
means,  notwithstanding  all  the  difficulties  in  the  way, 
can  we  do  something  to  redeem  the  time  ? 

I  suggest  as  one  most  helpful  means  toward  redeem- 
ing time, —  the  most  helpful  of  any  means, —  that  of 
making  religion  absolutely  (what  we  all  account  it 
theoretically),  absolutely,  I  say,  the  uppermost  inter- 
est of  life.  There  is  a  tremendous  power  in  an 
uppermost  interest.  Whatever  it  be,  it  swings  every- 
thing round  to  itself.  If  a  man's  uppermost  interest 
is  his  business,  all  insensibly  and  even  oftentimes 
against  his  voluntary  resolves  and  endeavors,  his  busi- 
ness subordinates  everything  in  him  and  about  him  to 
itself.  His  business  goes  with  him  to  his  bed,  gets  up 
with  him  to  every  new  sunrise,  occupies  the  dreams  of 
his  sleeping  hours,  sits  with  him  at  the  table  and 
hurries  him  at  his  dinner,  follows  him  to  Church  on 
Sunday,  holds  him  in  a  perpetual  grip  as  its  bond- 
slave and  thrall.  Is  a  man's  uppermost  interest  the 
prosecution  of  some  scientific  inquiry,  or  some  literary 
enterprise  ?  How  quickly  such  an  inquiry  or  such  an 
endeavor  puts  everything  else  underfoot.     All  things 


136  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

seem  tributary  to  that.  He  walks  the  streets  and 
encounters  the  most  unlooked  for  confirmations  of  his 
theory,  or  suggestions  toward  his  enterprise.  Para- 
graphs of  the  daily  newspapers,  which  others  read 
unthinking,  are  full  of  significance  to  him.  All  winds 
blow  for  his  scheme,  all  roads  lead  toward  it.  Is  a 
woman's  uppermost  interest  the  successes  and  attain- 
ments of  society  .''  What  keen  preternatural  instincts 
are  developed  as  to  what  will  or  will  not  promote  that 
main  end.  How  sensitive,  as  if  every  nerve  were  on 
the  outside,  she  is  to  what  seems  a  slight  or  an  over- 
looking on  some  one's  part.  What  a  mighty  thing  an 
invitation  or  the  lack  of  an  invitation  is.  How  trifles 
become  mountains ;  and  all  things  simple,  natural 
and  deserving,  are  changed  to  something  else  when 
seen  through  fashion's  artificial  eye. 

A  supreme  interest, —  good  or  bad, —  commands  the 
field.  It  takes  possession  of  the  faculties  and  brings 
everything  under  its  control.  It  especially  rules  time ; 
and  by  its  constant  vigilant  watchfulness  and  uncon- 
scious alertness  in  being  always  intent  on  its  supreme 
concern,  may  almost  be  said  to  make  time  —  so  little 
does  it  suffer  to  waste  from  the  interests  about  which 
it  is  really  and  supremely  concerned. 

Now,  my  friends,  it  is  not  otherwise  with  religion. 
If  religion  is  a  man's  chief  interest, —  as  every  pro- 
fessedly Christian  man  professes  it  to  be, —  it  is  master 
of  the  situation.  It  swings  everything  round  to  itself. 
It  makes  business,  pleasure,  knowledge,  all  tributary 
and  subordinate  to  a  higher  concern  than  themselves. 
It  uses  every  one  of  them  as  servants  and  tools  to  pro- 
mote its  main  concern.  It  does  not  discourage  dili- 
gence   in    business,    or    attainment    in    knowledge   or 


SERMONS. 


137 


enjoyment  in  society.  But  with  the  natural  supremacy 
of  an  acknowledged  master,  it  subjects  them  all  to 
that  chief  end, —  the  knowledge  and  service  of  God, — 
in  which  religion  consists.  It  is  easy  to  see  what  a 
redeemer  of  time  such  a  supreme  interest  in  religion 
must  inevitably  be.  In  a  profound  and  comprehensive 
sense,  it  redeems  all  a  man's  time, —  his  hours  of  most 
diligent  business  or  of  his  most  leisurely  enjoyments, 
—  to  itself.  But  besides  this,  it  does  in  a  particular 
way,  and  just  as  any  other  supreme  interest  does, 
redeem  time  in  its  subdivisions  and  particles.  It 
looks  out  for  the  fragments  of  duration.  It  gives 
theme  and  occupation  to  accidental  half-hours  and 
minutes.  Minutes  and  half-hours,  because  they  have 
been  under  the  supreme  interest  of  scholarship, 
have  sometimes  made  scholars.  Elihu  Burritt,  out  in 
New  Britain,  standing  at  his  blacksmith  forge,  and 
snatching  now  and  then  a  glance  at  his  Greek  gram- 
mar, or  his  Legendre's  Geometry,  is  a  sufficiently  con- 
spicuous and  near  at  hand  illustration  of  the  truth  of 
that  fact.  And  just  so, —  because  under  the  power 
of  a  supreme  interest, —  minutes  and  half -hours  have 
made  saints  of  God.  The  commanding  concern  has 
lent  to  and  found  in  the  small  crumbs  of  duration  a 
value  incalculable,  and  an  opportunity  for  spiritual 
growth  continuous  and  blessed.  I  entreat  you  to 
make  actual  that  supreme  interest  in  religion  which 
most  of  you,  my  hearers,  even  now  profess,  as  one 
exceedingly  practical  method  in  the  redemption  of 
time. 

I  conclude  by  the  mention  of  only  one  more  sugges- 
tion of  a  possible  way  of  redeeming  time  to  higher  ends. 
This  is  by  habituating   ourselves, — -as  I  suppose  we 


138     REVEREND  GEORGE  LEON  WALKER,  D.I). 

shall  all  agree  it  would  be  wise  in  us  to  habituate  our- 
selves,—  to  look  upon  time  as  provisional  and  prepara- 
tory in  its  character.  Time  has  its  main  end  and  its 
highest  use  in  what  comes  after  it.  We  are  here 
seventy  years  ;  we  are  there  seventy  thousand.  We 
are  here  a  little  while ;  we  are  there  forever.  The 
bare  putting  of  these  facts  beside  one  another  is  itself 
a  commentary,  which  hardly  needs  anything  added  to 
it,  on  the  significance  of  that  provisional  and  prepara- 
tory character  which  must  belong  to  time  and  what- 
ever time  can  do.  Crowd  time  full  as  it  may  be  with 
interesting  and  significant  events ;  employ  it  grandly 
as  it  can  be  employed  in  great  and  important  matters ; 
still  the  main  interest  and  value  of  it,  from  the  very 
nature  of  the  case,  must  be  in  what  it  leads  on  to  and 
prepares  for.  But  once  let  a  distinct  and  abiding  per- 
ception of  this  fact  really  enter  into  a  man's  soul  and 
what  a  curious  alteration  it  inevitably  makes  in  the 
whole  perspective  of  affairs.  What  a  shifting  and 
exchange  of  places  and  values  immediately  takes  place 
in  the  things  he  looks  upon.  Those  things  are  worth 
most — are  they  not.''  —  which  most  directly  affect  the 
quality  of  one's  own  and  others'  future.  That  is  the 
most  important  matter,  surely,  which  has  the  most 
immediate  and  moulding  influence  on  what  is  to  be 
bye-and-bye  and  forever.  But  if  this  is  so,  how  unmi- 
portant  are  some  things  generally  regarded  as  very 
important  here  ;  how  transcendently  momentous  are 
some  things,  which  are  here  deemed  of  little  concern ! 
Let  a  man  but  come  to  measure  all  the  occupations 
and  interests  of  life, —  I  do  not  say  with  exclusive  ref- 
erence, or  with  emotional  and  excited  reference,  but, — 
with  calm  and  reasonable  reference,  such  as  becomes 


SERMONS. 


139 


the  facts  in  the  case,  to  their  bearing  on  the  character 
of  that  future  to  which  he  is  moving  on,  and  for  which 
everything  here  is  fitting  or  unfitting  him  now.  It 
will  be  impossible  for  him  not  to  sustain  a  profoundly 
altered  attitude  toward  the  things  of  life  and  action 
about  him.  A  new  standard  of  values  will  be  his  by 
which  all  things  will  be  measured.  How  they  bear 
on,  or  fail  to  bear,  on  the  welfare  which  is  abiding  is  a 
question  which,  like  the  touch  of  aqua  fortis  on  a 
metal,  will  show  the  gold  or  the  brass  of  moral  things, 
and  rate  them  at  their  proper  worth. 

And  time  itself,  which  has  in  it  this  preparatory  and 
provisional  character,  must  be,  to  the  last  grain  of  it, 
a  sacred  thing.  How  can  any  one  to  whom  its  worth 
is  apparent  permit  it  to  be  wasted  in  careless  frivolities, 
or  misused  in  employments,  which,  however  they  may 
be  dignified  by  high-sounding  names,  contribute  not 
to  the  main  end  for  which  time  was  given,  or  to  those 
abiding  welfares  of  ourselves  or  others,  which  will  be 
theirs  and  ours  when  "time  shall  be  no  more."  Listen 
again  to  the  words  of  the  Apostle,  forever  seasonable 
and  forever  kind  : 

••  See  then  that  ye  walk  circumspectly,  not  as  fools,  but  as 
wise ;  redeemins:  the  time,  because  the  days  are  evil." 


I^O  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WAEKER,    D.D. 


VIII. 

IMPERFECT  CHARACTERS  OF  SCRIPTURE.* 

Hi;i;kI':\vs  xi :   13. 

These  all  died  in  fait Ji. 

This  eleventh  chapter  of  the  Hebrews  is  a  kind  of 
muster-roll  of  ancient  piety.  Names  which  in  the  reg- 
ular narrative  of  Scripture  stand  separated  from  one 
another  by  wide  tracts  of  time  and  by  many  interven- 
ing generations,  are  here  gathered  in  one  company. 
Perhaps  the  figure  will  be  allowable,  if  it  is  said  that 
in  this  passage  of  his  Epistle  the  writer  undertakes  to 
conduct  us  through  a  portrait-gallery  of  the  famous  be- 
lieving dead.  It  is  an  august  and  venerable  succession 
that  he  bids  us  look  upon.  The  long  line  reaches  back 
to  a  remote  and  almost  shadowy  antiquity  ;  yet  the 
moral  lineaments  of  each  of  those  who  have  been 
deemed  worthy  of  a  place  in  this  gallery  of  P'aith  stand 
out  in  lifelike  distinctness.  Here  seem  to  gaze  down 
upon  us  the  sacred  and  the  great,  with  whose  names  is 
identified  the  very  thought  of  religion  (not  alone  in  our 
personal  understanding  of  it  with  which  they  have 
been  associated  from  our  childhood),  but  in  the  actual 
development  of  religious  history  in  the  world.  Here 
is  Abel,  first  martyr  to  the  cause  of  pure  worshiji,  and 


Written  in  1S64. 


SERMONS. 


141 


Enoch,  the  man  who  has  never  died.  Here  are  Abra- 
ham and  Sarah,  and  Isaac  the  son  of  their  old  age. 
Here,  clothed  in  his  Egyptian  robes  of  authority,  is 
Joseph,  the  kidnapped  child  of  Palestine ;  and  Moses, 
cradled  amid  the  flags  of  the  Nile,  to  lead  the  children 
of  Joseph  and  his  brethren  back  tQ  Palestine  once  more. 
Here  is  the  venerable  form  of  Samuel,  last  of  the 
Judges  ;  and  the  regal  effigy  of  David, —  not  the  first 
king  of  Israel  indeed,  but  the  first  kingly  ancestor  of 
the  prince  Emmanuel.  As  we  pass  along  the  sacred 
company  we  feel  the  gathering  influence  of  their  noble 
histories ;  we  sympathize  in  the  exclamation  of  the 
writer  of  the  Epistle,  "  Of  whom  the  world  was  not  wor- 
thy "  ;  and  are  impressed  by  the  remembrance  that  we 
are  encompassed  by  "so  great"  and  so  majestic  "a 
cloud  of  witnesses." 

But  now, —  while  still  pondering  on  the  constancy  of 
Noah,  or  the  self-denial  of  Moses, —  our  attention  is 
arrested  by  two  or  three  figures  in  this  Scripture  gal- 
lery, respecting  whom  a  half-felt  wonder  perhaps  rises. 
Why  are  these  men  here  ?  This  is  a  gallery  of 
the  saints.  Those  who  are  represented  in  it  are  set 
forth  as  having  "obtained  a  good  report."  It  is  testi- 
fied of  them  that  they  "all  died  in  faith  "  ;  that  "  God 
is  not  ashamed  to  be  called  their  God "  ;  that  they 
"wrought  righteousness,  obtained  promises,"  and  that 
God  "hath  prepared  for  them  a  city."  We  read  some 
of  these  commendations  perhaps  with  a  little  surprise. 
Here,  for  example,  looks  down  upon  us  the  warrior 
Gileadite  Jephthah,  the  illegitimate  child  of  a  lawless 
race,  born  and  nurtured  in  the  wild  regions  of  chase 
and  freebooting  beyond  the  Jordan.  And  while  we 
wonder  at  his  place  in  this  company,  we  seem  to  see 


142        rever1':ni)  geokge  leon   walker,  d.d. 

his  hands  reddening  with  the  blood  of  his  only  child, 
slain  in  fulfilment  of  his  rash  and  ruthless  vow.  Sam- 
son, too, — -devoted  indeed  from  birth  to  the  restraints 
of  a  Nazarite's  pledge  of  temperance,  but  in  nearly  all 
other  respects  the  most  jovial,  irregular,  unlicensed  of 
men, —  we  start  a  little  at  seeing  Samson  depicted 
among  the  worthies  of  Scripture.  When  we  try  to 
think  of  him  thus,  it  is  not  perhaps  strange  that  his 
mad  expeditions  down  to  Timnath,  and  the  shaving  of 
his  hair  in  the  chamber  in  the  valley  of  Sorek,  disturb 
a  moment  the  reverence  of  our  meditation.  So,  too, 
in  their  degree,  of  Barak  and  Gideon  ;  and  in  lesser 
measure  even  of  Jacob,  whose  crafty  supplanting  of 
his  brother  and  base  deception  of  his  blind  old  father, 
can  scarcely  fail  to  occur  to  us  every  time  we  think  of 
this  "inheritor  of  the  promises."  These  are  not  men 
whom  we  should  naturally  select  as  devout  characters 
—  examples  of  piety  and  God-serving.  Had  we  been 
enumerating  the  saints  of  old,  and  composing  a  volume 
for  the  religious  edification  of  men,  it  is  doubtful 
whether  Rahab  and  Samson  and  Jephthah  would  have 
found  any  place  in  it.  Or,  if  we  discovered  here  and 
there  a  trait  in  the  lives  even  of  these  which  prevented 
an  entire  denial  of  mention  in  our  catalogue  of  the 
good,  we  should  at  all  events  carefully  suppress  many 
of  the  facts  which  now  confront  us, —  sometimes  per- 
haps we  think  a  little  uncomfortably, —  in  the  Scrip- 
ture story. 

Yet  these  persons  are  without  hesitation  ranked 
among  the  saints  and  heroes.  The  Bible  fearlessly 
challenges  for  them  a  place  in  perpetual  remembrance. 
Their  characters  are  drawn  out  in  full  detail.  Their 
imperfections,  as  well  as  their  virtues,  are  impartially 


SERMONS. 


143 


set  before  us.  The  pen  of  Scripture  photographs  for 
us  the  passionate  violence  of  Ehud  and  Shamgar,  as 
well  as  the  devotion  of  Daniel  or  the  zeal  of  Jeremiah. 
And  then,  after  having  done  so,  setting  before  us  thus 
a  character  in  which  good  and  evil  are  mixed  in  strono- 
and  contrasting  colors,  the  Word  of  God  says  respect- 
ing some  of  them,  as  in  the  text,  "these  all  died  in 
faith";  these  were  "persuaded"  of  the  promises; 
these  "  confessed  that  they  were  strangers  and  pilgrims 
on  the  earth"  ;  these  all  "obtained  a  good  report." 

The  characteristic  of  Scripture  which  comes  out  so 
distinctly  in  this  famous  eulogy  pronounced  on  the 
worthies  of  Old  Testament  history  in  this  chapter  of 
the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  is  a  characteristic  which 
pervades  to  some  extent  the  entire  Bible.  All  through 
the  volume  given  by  inspiration  we  are  in  the  same  way 
presented  with  lives  of  men, —  accepted  and  honored 
servants  of  God, —  who  are  marked  by  painful  blem- 
ishes and  imperfections.  Characters  are  held  up  before 
us  in  the  most  sacred  of  all  associations,  and  the  most 
trusted  of  all  stations,  upon  which  we  behold,  without 
the  least  attempt  to  hide  the  fact  from  us,  the  scars  of 
grievous  infirmities  and  sometimes  of  sins.  Where 
should  we  look  for  blameless  behavior  if  not  among 
the  immediate  disciples  of  our  Lord  ?  To  whom  should 
we  turn  for  flawless  correctness  of  conduct,  if  not  to 
those  who  were  entrusted  by  Christ  with  the  duty  of 
sharing  His  ministry  while  He  was  yet  on  earth,  and 
of  recording  the  Scriptures  and  guiding  His  church 
when  He  was  gone.'  Yet  even  the  best  beloved  dis- 
ciple sustains  a  severe  rebuke  at  the  Master's  lips,  for 
his  sinful  desire  to  invoke  "fire  from  heaven  "  to  burn 
up  a  whole  village  which  had  slighted  Jesus  and  His 


144  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

company.  Peter  lies  and  blasphemes  and  treacher- 
ously denies  his  Master,  though  he  afterward  deeply 
repents  of  his  wickedness.  But  repentant  Peter  is 
not  a  perfect  man.  Paul  "  withstands  him  to  the 
face"  on  one  occasion  long  subsequently,  "because," 
as  he  says,  "he  was  to  be  blamed,"  and  was  carried 
away  with  an  unworthy  "dissimulation."  But  even 
Paul  is  not  without  his  weak  point.  On  a  certain  mis- 
sionary journey  with  Barnabas,  carrying  the  Gospel  of 
Peace,  these  two  eminent  men  fall  into  a  controversy, 
and  the  "contention  is  so  sharp  between  them"  that 
they  cannot  continue  to  work  together,  but  separate, 
each  taking  a  different  companion  and  a  different  field 
of  labor. 

Now,  it  cannot  be  for  nothing  that  such  facts  as  these 
are  preserved  to  us  in  the  biographies  of  the  good  men 
of  Scripture.  It  would  have  been  very  easy  to  have 
suppressed  them.  There  was  no  necessity  that  the 
writer  of  the  Epistle  from  which  the  text  is  taken, 
should  have  added  to  his  catalogue  of  Abel  and  Enoch 
and  Noah  and  Abraham  and  Moses,  the  names  of  Sam- 
son and  Jephthah  and  Rahab.  The  catalogue  would 
have  been  grand  and  illustrious  without  these.  And 
yet  Holy  Scripture  has  carefully  enumerated  these 
among  the  worthies  of  Old  Testament  history,  and  de- 
clares respecting  them  that  God  "  is  not  ashamed  to 
be  called  their  God."  And  with  equal  fearlessness  do 
the  Gospels  and  the  Epistles, —  while  claiming  for  the 
Apostolic  company  an  assured  place  among  the  re- 
deemed and  the  beloved  of  God, —  set  forth  with  im- 
partial distinctness  the  frailties  of  a  John,  a  Barnabas, 
a  Peter,  and  a  Paul.  Nay,  in  the  same  spirit,  are  the 
contentions  and  backslidings  of  the  primitive  Churches 


SERMONS. 


145 


brought  before  us.  Large  portions  of  Apostolic  letters 
are  devoted  to  redressing  errors  and  flagrant  abuses 
which,  in  less  than  twenty  years  after  their  founding, 
have  crept  into  the  Churches  of  Thessalonica,  Corinth, 
and  Galatia. 

Now  all  this  must  have  its  instructions  for  us.  A 
procedure  so  contrary  to  man's  way  of  commending  a 
cause  to  favorable  judgment  cannot  have  been  deliber- 
ately chosen  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  without  a  deep  and 
sufficient  reason.  This  setting  before  us  of  mingled 
evil  and  good  in  the  lives  of  those  whom  Scripture 
holds  up  as  saints  and  heroes,  this  numbering  of  Rahab 
and  Samson  among  those  "of  whom  the  world  was  not 
worthy,"  has  certainly  its  uses  or  it  would  not  have 
been  done.  Let  us  endeavor,  therefore,  to  gain  some 
of  these  lessons  from  the  Imperfect  Characters  of 
Scripture :  or  in  other  words,  let  us  seek  to  know  why 
the  faults  of  such  men  as  David  and  Jacob  find  a  care- 
ful record  ;  and  Gideon  and  Barak  are  numbered 
among  those  who  "wrought  righteousness"  and 
"obtained  promises." 

One  reflection,  of  a  somewhat  general  and  prelimi- 
nary nature,  which  occurs  to  us,  is  this  :  The  record  of 
these  Imperfect  Characters  of  Scripture  imparts  a  life- 
like quality  to  Biblical  history.  The  narratives  of  the 
Book  of  God  come  to  us  wearing  an  aspect  of  natural- 
ness and  authenticity  derived  from  the  presentation 
before  us  of  characters  beset  and  often  overcome  by  the 
familiar  passions  and  infirmities  of  our  nature.  As  we 
look  around  us  among  men  we  nowhere  behold  fault- 
less perfection.  All  whom  we  know  are  imperfect. 
The  best  are  but  partly  good.  The  most  exempt  from 
infirmities  are  nevertheless  only  comparatively  exempt, 
10 


146  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

It  is  a  good  thing  therefore,  on  the  mere  ground  of  se- 
curing our  confidence  in  its  truthfuhiess,  and  in  mak- 
ing Scripture  biography  real  and  living  to  us,  that  the 
Bible  presents  the  characters  of  the  men  of  whom  it 
tells  us  with  all  their  imperfections  and  failures.  Not 
like  some  volumes  purporting  to  be  truthful  records  of 
the  lives  of  eminent  Christian  saints  is  the  Bible  in  this 
particular.  Not  like  a  great  deal  of  biographical  litera- 
ture issued  by  our  religious  press,  read  in  our  Sunday- 
schools,  wept  over  by  our  firesides,  is  the  Book  of 
God.  These  books  of  human  begetting  are  rich  in 
tales  of  the  unnaturally  and  impossibly  good  ;  men  and 
women  with  fewer  acknowledged  faults  than  the  im- 
patient, though  beloved  John;  children  riper  for  im- 
mortality than  that  arduous  Apostle  who  was  obliged 
still  to  keep  under  his  body  and  bring  it  into  subjection 
lest  after  all  he  should  be  "a  castaway."  It  is  not  in 
this  manner  that  the  narratives  of  Scripture  are  set  be- 
fore us.  These  present  us  men  placed  in  the  midst  of 
life's  common  struggles.  Men  battered  and  scarred 
with  rough  contact  with  affairs.  Men  of  like  passions 
with  ourselves.  Men  who  find  it  hard  work  to  do  right, 
and  who  often  fail.  Men  who  battle  terribly  to  keep 
their  heads  above  water,  and  who,  some  of  them,  seem 
at  times  well-nigh  swept  away  and  lost.  Apostles  fiery 
tempered;  Prophets  melancholy,  impatient,  headstrong 
and  humble  by  turns  ;  Kings  and  Judges  at  once  law- 
less and  obedient,  reckless  and  devout, —  these  are 
the  men  who  pass  before  us  on  the  Scripture  page. 
And  hence  Scripture  comes  to  us  as  a  real  record. 
These  are  real  lives  we  look  upon.  The  stamp  of 
authenticity  is  on  them.  These  are  men  of  a  kind  that 
we  can  understand.     Biographies  like  these  can  help 


SERMONS. 


147 


US,  for  our  own  lives  tell  us  that  they  are  true  and  their 
struggles  interpret  to  us  our  own. 

Another  lesson  which  comes  to  us  from  the  Scripture 
commendations  of  Imperfect  Characters,  is  that  re- 
sponsibility is  proportioned  to  privilege.  Men  are 
estimated  according  to  the  light  they  enjoy.  Several 
of  the  names  mentioned  with  praise  in  this  eleventh 
chapter  of  the  Hebrews,  Gideon  and  Barak  and  Sam- 
son and  Jephthah,  belong  to  the  darkest  and  most  tur- 
bulent period  of  Jewish  history, —  that  recorded  in  the 
Book  of  Judges,  This  was  undoubtedly  the  lowest 
moral  era  of  Hebrew  story.  As  the  book  itself  says, 
repeating  it  several  times  to  impress  the  fact  upon  us, 
"  In  those  days  there  was  no  king  in  Israel,  [but]  every 
man  did  that  which  was  right  in  his  own  eyes."  There 
was  no  fixed  capital  of  the  nation,  no  regular  sanctuary, 
no  established  government.  No  one  tribe  had  an 
acknowledged  pre-eminence.  The  rulers  which  were 
from  time  to  time  raised  up  to  exercise  authority,  came 
according  to  no  recognized  law,  and  belonged  to  no 
hereditary  family.  Gideon  was  of  the  tribe  of  Ma- 
nasseh ;  Barak  of  Naphtali ;  Samson  of  Dan  ;  Jephthah 
came  from  the  mixed  race  in  the  border  country  be- 
yond Jordan,  his  mother  a  concubine  of  the  native  tribes 
of  Canaan.  In  this  turbulent,  ungoverned  time  these 
men  lived.  No  public  sanctuary  gathered  them.  No 
recognized  law  controlled  them.  The  Jewish  people 
were  mingled  with  the  original  inhabitants  of  the  land, 
their  victory  over  them  not  yet  established.  It  was  a 
period  unparalleled  in  the  annals  of  the  Hebrew  race 
for  its  confusion,  its  dimness  of  moral  perception,  its 
absence  of  civilization  and  control.  Yet  in  the  mid.st 
of  this  disorder  these  men  lived  lives  which  secured  for 


148  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

them  the  approbation  of  the  Biblical  historian.  That 
they  were  perfect  men  is  not  alleged.  That  they  were 
very  imperfect  men  is  plainly  shown  to  us.  No  veil  is 
cast  over  their  infirmities.  Nevertheless  Scripture 
finds  in  them  something  which  makes  them  venerable 
and  sacred.  What  that  "something"  was,  we  shall 
have  occasion  speedily  to  notice.  But  at  present  we 
are  remarking  on  the  fact  that  they  were  dealt  with 
and  estimated,  not  according  to  the  light  they  did  not 
have,  but  according  to  what  they  had.  Scripture  is 
nowhere  betrayed  into  any  expression  of  apology  for 
their  faults.  It  never  defends  or  sympathizes  with 
their  imperfections.  It  simply  narrates  them  with  an 
impartial  hand,  and  then  claims  that  spite  of  them  all, 
these  men,  in  view  of  the  dim  light  that  they  enjoyed, 
were  good  men.  In  other  words,  it  applies  to  the 
estimation  of  character  that  plain  principle  announced 
by  Christ :  "  To  whom  much  is  given,  of  him  will  much 
be  required  ; "  and  the  converse  of  it  is  equally  true :  To 
whom  little  is  given,  of  him  will  little  be  required.  As 
a  consequence  of  this  principle  we  see,  therefore,  as  we 
come  down  through  Biblical  story,  that  though  the  good 
men  of  Scripture  are  all  of  them  imperfect  men,  yet 
their  imperfections  are  continually  narrower  in  range 
and  lighter  in  degree.  As  the  light  which  shines  around 
them  becomes  brighter,  they  are  required  to  attain,  and 
do  attain,  a  higher  moral  standing  ground,  and  to  be- 
come more  and  more  faultless.  The  Bible  acknowl- 
edges the  Apostle  John  to  have  been  an  imperfect 
man  ;  but  the  impartial  pen  records  no  worse  fault 
against  him  than  a  high  and  imperious  temper.  And 
the  exhibition  even  of  this  fault  is,  so  far  as  the  nar- 
rative leaves  us  to  infer,  confined  to  his  youthful  days 


SERMONS. 


149 


and  the  beginning  period  of  his  religious  life.  The 
plain  conclusion,  therefore,  results  from  the  Scripture's 
method  of  dealing  with  the  imperfect  characters  of 
which  it  tells  us  that  accountability  is  proportioned  to 
light.  Men  are  estimated  by  their  opportunities.  Re- 
ligious obligation  advances  as  religious  knowledge  in- 
creases. We  are  bound  to  be  better  men  than  the 
primitive  Christians  by  the  same  law  which  bound  them 
to  be  more  blameless  than  the  Hebrews  of  the  eras  of 
Deborah  and  Eli.  What  was  but  a  fault  in  them,  may 
be  a  sin  in  us.  The  thing  which  was  but  a  blemish 
in  them  may  be  to  us  the  ruin  of  the  soul. 

A  further  instruction  afforded  by  the  Imperfect 
Characters  of  Scripture  is  the  value  of  Faith  as  a  prin- 
ciple of  life. 

I  said  there  was  something  in  these  men  of  whom 
Scripture  tells  us,  in  spite  of  all  their  faults,  which 
affords  a  true  and  sufficient  ground  for  the  glorious 
commendation  given  them  in  the  book  of  God.  That 
something  was  Faith.  They  believed  in  God.  They 
confided  in  Him  to  do  what  He  promised.  They 
ventured  everything  on  His  pledges.  He  was  a  real 
Being  to  them.  And  His  word  was  a  rock  on  which 
they  rested.  They  were  accustomed  in  their  hour 
of  need  to  look  to  Him,  and  believe  that  they  were 
heard.  Take  but  one  example,  for  time  will  not 
suffice  to  mention  more  than  one  illustrious  in- 
stance of  these  exhibitions  of  belief  in  God  of 
which  the  Bible  is  full.  This  instance  shall  be  taken 
from  the  troubled  and  morally-darkened  epoch  already 
spoken  of.  The  Israelites  had  been  but  just  delivered 
from  long  and  exhausting  conflicts  with  the  Philistines 
on  the  south,  and  Jabin  and  Sisera,  who  had  invaded 


I^O  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEOX    WALKER,    D.D. 

from  the  north,  when  a  new  and  greater  peril  threat- 
ened them.  The  Midianites  and  Amalekites  came  up 
against  them.  Like  their  Arab  posterity  of  modern 
days  they  came  dressed  in  scarlet,  riding  on  drome- 
daries and  camels.  They  drove  before  them  their 
cattle  ;  they  covered  the  hills  with  their  tents,  an  army 
of  conquest  and  occupation.  In  this  juncture  the 
message  of  God  came  to  Gideon,  a  man  of  a  poor 
household  of  Manasseh.  And  as  we  read  in  the 
record,  the  Lord  said  unto  him,  "Surely  I  will  be 
with  thee  and  thou  shalt  smite  the  Midianites  as  one 
man."  Summoned  thus,  Gideon  assumed  the  under- 
taking. He  sent  messengers  and  gathered  the  people- 
There  were  assembled  to  him  thirty-two  thousand  men. 
These  were  but  as  a  handful  to  the  host  of  the  invad- 
ers, but  even  these  were  too  many  for  the  divine  pur- 
pose. But  would  Gideon  still  confide  in  God  if  his 
forces  were  lessened  .'*  God  tried  him.  He  com- 
manded him  to  proclaim  in  the  hearing  of  the  trem- 
bling Israelites,  "  Whosoever  is  fearful  and  afraid  let  him 
depart."  Was  it  not  enough  to  discomfit  the  leader, 
that  he  beheld  twenty-two  thousand  men  turn  from 
him  and  go  .-*  But  still  he  was  not  enough  tried.  Ten 
thousand  were  too  many.  By  a  still  farther  process  of 
sifting  and  separation  Gideon  beheld  his  number 
reduced  to  three  hundred  men.  Would  he  still  under- 
take the  work  }  The  disparity  of  numbers  was  terri- 
ble, but  still  three  hundred  powerful  warriors  armed 
with  practiced  weapons  could  do  something.  Nay,  but 
they  were  not  allowed  to  be  armed.  The  amazed,  but 
still  confiding,  leader  obeyed  the  command  which  took 
away  even  from  the  little  company  left  to  him  their 
spears  and  swords,  and  saw  them  accoutred  for  their 


SERMONS. 


151 


perilous  enterprise  each  with  a  trumpet  in  one  hand, 
and  a  pitcher  containing  a  burning  lamp  in  the  other. 
Did  he  falter  at  the  strange  injunction  which  bade  him 
undertake  such  a  housewife-like  mode  of  warfare .'' 
There  is  no  sign  of  it.  He  believed  the  word  which 
had  been  spoken  :  "  Surely  I  will  be  with  thee,  and 
thou  shalt  smite  the  Midianites  as  one  man."  And 
when  the  three  hundred  had  blown  their  trumpets, 
and  clashed  the  breaking  pitchers,  and  flashed  forth 
the  fitful  rays  of  the  lamps  upon  the  midnight  dark- 
ness, and  when  the  Midianites,  astonished  and  fright- 
ened, had  fallen  upon  one  another,  and  fled  hewing 
each  other  down  in  their  terror  all  along  the  road  to 
Zererath  and  the  Jordan,  a  thing  had  been  done,  by 
the  power  of  steadfast  faith  in  God,  which  entitled 
Gideon  to  a  place  among  the  heroes  of  religious  his- 
tory forever.  We  vindicate  the  writer  to  the  Hebrews 
as  he  holds  this  man  up,  all  rude  and  imperfect  as 
other  parts  of  his  history  show  him  to  have  been,  as 
an  example  of  trust  in  God  and  a  light  of  faith  always. 

So  too  of  Samson,  when  blind  and  captive  and  made 
to  do  ungainly  sport  for  his  oppressors,  he  felt  after 
the  pillars  of  the  temple,  and  in  the  earnestness  of  his 
patriotism  and  devotion  to  his  nation  he  prayed  his 
last  prayer  :  "  O  Lord  God  remember  me,  I  pray 
Thee :  and  strengthen  me,  I  pray  Thee,  only  this 
once."  We  forget  his  wild  revels  at  Timnath,  we  for- 
get his  shameful  loss  of  his  locks.  This  was  a  man 
who  believed  in  God,  and  knew  how  to  utter  the  prayer 
of  faith. 

The  strong  instruction  comes  to  us  thus  even  from 
the  most  imperfect  of  the  men  whom  the  Scripture 
enumerates  among  the  saints,  that  Faith  is  the  all-im- 


152 


REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 


portant  principle  of  life.  Belief  in  God ;  belief  that 
God  will  do  as  He  says  ;  will  save  and  punish  as  He 
affirms  He  will ;  will  bless  those  who  confide  in  Him, — 
a  steadfast  conviction  of  these  things  is  the  justifying 
fact  of  a  life  whether  it  be  lived  in  Palestine  or  New 
England ;  in  the  time  of  the  Judges,  or  Apostles,  or 
now.  Indeed,  in  some  respects  this  lesson  is  taught 
us  by  such  lives  as  those  of  Samson  and  Gideon  more 
plainly  than  by  those  of  Abraham  or  Paul.  For  the 
fact  stands  more  boldly  out  in  their  cases  that  true 
faith  will  save  very  imperfect  men.  The  thing  which 
justifies  the  soul  is  its  simplicity  of  trust  in  God, 
whatever  be  the  object  toward  which  that  trust  is  sum- 
moned. It  ought  to  be  no  harder  for  a  man  to  believe 
God  is  willing  to  forgive  him  if  he  repents,  or  will  punish 
him  if  he  does  not,  than  it  was  for  the  husbandman  of 
Manasseh  to  believe  that  his  lamps  and  pitchers  would 
gain  him  victory.  And  just  so  long  as  a  man  cannot 
believe  this,  Gideon  and  Samson  and  Rahab  are  his 
instructors.  And  they  are  instructors  all  the  more 
convincing,  because  their  own  cases  are  so  vivid  illus- 
trations that  faith  can  deliver  very  great  and  miserable 
sinners.  It  is  not  the  perfectness  of  the  character 
which  gives  the  efficacy  to  the  faith.  It  is  faith  which 
blots  out  the  imperfection,  and  saves  Rahab  and  may 
save  me. 

A  still  further  lesson  which  comes  to  us  from  the 
depicting  before  us  of  the  imperfect  good  men  of 
Scripture  is  this  :  We  are  admonished  against  over 
much  fault-finding  and  severity  in  our  judgments  of 
one  another.  The  critical  temper  which  is  always 
rasping  at  other  people's  shortcomings,  which  is  always 
uttering  hard  speeches  if  men  do  not  fully  meet  some 


SERMONS.  153 

ideal  standard  of  right  conduct  which  we  are  pleased 
to  set  up,  does  indeed,  in  many  places  in  Scripture, 
receive  severe  condemnation.  "  Judge  not,  that  ye  be 
not  judged,"  says  the  Master.  "  For  with  what  judg- 
ment ye  judge,  ye  shall  be  judged."  That  is  a  law, 
the  execution  of  which  might  well  make  many  tremble 
whose  tongues  are  trained  to  be  sharp  swords,  per- 
petually hacking  and  thrusting,  and  hewing  at  other 
people's  faults.  "  None  is  good  but  one,"  said  Christ. 
All  beside  Him  have  their  infirmities  and  their  sins. 
And  if  a  man  expects  everybody  to  be  perfect  he  had 
better  move  out  of  this  world.  But  this  lesson  of  for- 
bearance in  our  judgments,  taught  us  in  so  many  ways 
beside,  is  in  a  very  signal  manner  taught  by  the  narra- 
tives of  the  good  men  of  the  Bible.  It  is  a  very 
instructive  remembrance  that  there  is  not  one  of  these 
good  men,  whose  character  is  drawn  out  at  any  con- 
siderable length,  who  is  not  plainly  revealed  as  having 
his  faults  and  weaknesses.  If  absolute  perfection  is 
demanded  as  a  safeguard  against  severe  judgment  then 
neither  Paul  nor  John  can  go  free.  Then  every  idle 
tongue  in  Corinth  is  at  liberty  to  twit  Paul  of  his 
quarrel  with  Barnabas  ;  and  every  garrulous  member  of 
a  congregation  in  which  the  saintly  and  beloved  dis- 
ciple utters  his  oft  repeated  injunction  :  "  Love  one 
another.  Love  one  another,"  may  remind  his  neighbor 
of  the  time  when  the  same  lips  passionately  invoked 
fire  from  heaven  to  consume  a  Samaritan  village.  The 
Bible  recognizes  all  their  faults,  but  says  nevertheless 
of  vastly  more  imperfect  men  than  these  :  "  God  is  not 
ashamed  to  be  called  their  God."  If  the  heart  is  once 
made  humble  and  contrite  ;  if  the  man  is  once  radically 
and  truly  set  in  terms  of  acceptance  with  God  and  of 


1^4  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

confession  of  wrong  to  his  offended  fellow  men,  Scrip- 
ture becomes  a  generous  and  kindly  judge.  Peter's 
backsliding  shall  not  be  mentioned  perpetually  to  his 
confusion,  nor  even  David's  flagrant  sin,  openly  con- 
fessed and  agonized  over,  deny  him  a  place  among  the 
honored  and  the  loved.  Well  would  it  be  for  us  to  pon- 
der this  lesson  who  draw  one  another  before  the  poor 
tribunals  of  our  own  imperfect  judgments,  and  perhaps 
still  more  imperfect  lives,  and  demand  of  all  a  con- 
formity to  what, after  all,  maybe  no  behest  of  morality, 
or  justice  or  duty  ;  but  possibly  only  a  whim,  a  fancy, 
an  individual  taste. 

A  final  instruction  which  we  may  profitably  reap 
from  the  record  of  the  Imperfect  Characters  of  Scrip- 
ture, is  a  word  of  encouragement  and  comfort  to 
imperfect  but  struggling  men. 

I  said,  a  little  time  ago,  that  responsibility  is  pro- 
portioned to  privilege ;  that  religious  obligations  ad- 
vance with  increase  of  knowledge  ;  that  we  are  in  duty 
bound  to  be  better  Christians  than  those  of  the  primi- 
tive age.  It  is  so.  I  would  have  that  lesson  solemnly 
rest  upon  us  as  an  abiding  truth.  But,  nevertheless, 
it  was  not,  I  think,  without  its  designs  toward  a  right- 
ful encouragement  of  men,  downcast  and  troubled 
because  of  their  shortcomings,  that  so  many  of  the 
saints  of  old  are  set  before  us  in  the  posture  of  delin- 
quents, and  in  the  manifest  need  of  forgiveness.  There 
is  a  token  of  the  tenderness  of  Christ  toward  the  weak 
and  faltering  of  His  flock  in  the  fact  that  He  caused  it  to 
be  recorded  that,  even  amid  the  immediate  circle  of  His 
own  disciples,  there  was  a  doubting  Thomas,  a  backslid- 
ing Peter,  an  angry  John.  The  frailties  of  the  good  men 
of  Scripture  are  no  shelter  for  the  man  who  makes  them 


SERMONS,  155 

an  excuse  for  remissness  in  the  urgency  of  his  own 
endeavor.  But  the  man  who  is  with  all  his  heart 
striving  to  do  the  Master's  will,  and  yet  who  comes 
consciously  very  far  short  of  doing  what  he  would  be 
glad  to  do, —  who  does  watch  and  agonize  and  labor, 
but  is  yet  sometimes  overtaken  in  a  fault,  may  draw 
an  inference  of  encouragement  from  the  words  that  the 
Book  of  God  speaks  of  men,  perhaps,  some  of  them, 
more  imperfect  than  he.  It  should  comfort  us  that 
Christ  did  not  cut  off  from  His  companionship  a  Peter 
who  thrice  denied  Him,  and  a  Thomas  who  said 
"  Except  I  thrust  my  hand  into  His  side  I  will  not 
believe."  The  infirmities  of  even  the  Apostolic  com- 
pany were  recorded  for  our  cheer.  They  bid  us  look 
up  with  hope  to  Him  who  like  as  a  father  pitieth  his 
children,  pities  them  who  fear  Him.  They  call  upon 
us  to  remember  that  no  sense  of  unworthiness  however 
deep,  should  bring  despair  into  a  soul  that  clings 
steadfastly  to  Christ.  An  utter  surrender  of  the  soul 
to  Him,  as  the  only  hope,  will  hide  a  multitude  of  sins. 
The  man  who  rests  on  Him  alone,  and  amid  perplexi- 
ties and  failures,  still  follows  after  Him,  will  not  be 
rejected.  "Though  he  fall  he  shall  not  be  utterly  cast 
down."  The  God  who  accepted  a  repentant  David, 
and  the  Christ  who  said  to  a  doubting  disciple,  "  Reach 
hither  thy  finger  and  behold  my  hands,"  will  pardon  the 
infirmities  of  God's  children  now,  as  those  of  old  were 
pardoned.  Press  on  in  labor  and  in  faith,  and  of  us  as 
of  Samson,  and  Rahab,  and  Jephthah  it  shall  at  last 
be  said  :  God  is  not  ashamed  to  be  called  our  God. 


ic;6  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 


IX. 
HEROD    AND    MANAEN.* 

Acts  xiii  :  i. 

Now  there  were  at  Aiitioc/i,  in  tJic  cJnirch  f/iat  7vas  there, prophets 
and  teachers,  Barnabas,  ajid  Symeon  that  was  called  Niger, 
and  Lucius  of  Cyrene,  and  Manaen  the  foster-brother  of 
Herod  the  Tetrarch,  and  Saul. 

This  thirteenth  chapter  of  the  book  of  Acts  marks 
the  great  dividing  point  between  the  leaderships  of 
Peter  and  of  Paul  in  the  developing  Church.  Up  to 
this  time  Peter  had  been  the  foremost  figure  in  the 
Church's  story.  He  led  in  the  election  of  Matthias 
to  the  Apostolate  made  vacant  by  Judas's  apostacy 
and  suicide.  He  was  the  preacher  of  the  sermon  on 
the  occasion  when  three  thousand  people  were 
"pricked  in  their  hearts"  on  the  day  of  Pentecost. 
He  pronounced  judgment  on  Ananias  and  Sapphira 
for  lying  to  the  Holy  Ghost.  He  opened  the  door  to 
the  admission  of  the  Gentiles  to  the  Church  by  the 
baptism  of  Cornelius  and  his  household. 

Yet  now  through  that  thus  opened  door  walked 
another  figure  who  during  the  rest  of  the  Apostolic 
narrative  occupies  the  eye  as  the  leading  personage  of 
the  new  stage  of  events  on  which  the  Church  was 
about  to  enter.     This  figure  is  that  of  Paul,  or  as  he 

*  Written  in  1890. 


SERMONS. 


157 


was  still  called,  Saul.  This  new  stage  of  activity  is 
the  first  great  missionary  movement  of  the  Church 
outside  the  borders  of  Palestine  and  outside  the  fellow- 
ship of  Judaism.  Converts  here  and  there,  like  the 
Greek  proselytes  who  sought  to  see  Christ  Himself  on 
the  last  great  day  of  the  Passover  before  He  died,  like 
the  Ethiopian  eunuch  converted  by  Philip  on  the  road 
down  to  Gaza,  like  the  household  of  Cornelius  before 
spoken  of,  there  had,  indeed,  been  previous  to  this 
time.  But  now,  for  the  first  time,  the  experiment  was 
to  be  made  of  a  direct  missionizing  endeavor  to  reach 
the  outside  pagan  world.  There  is  a  distinct  pause  in 
the  narrative  as  if  of  consciousness  of  the  great  event. 
There  is  an  enumeration  of  forces  like  that  of  a  com- 
mander in  view  of  a  critical  campaign.  The  scene  is 
Antioch,  a  city  itself  a  little  over  the  border  of  Pales- 
tine toward  Asia  Minor,  whither  a  number  of  the 
disciples  of  the  new  faith  had  fled  for  safety  from  the 
persecution  which  arose  about  the  killing  of  Stephen. 
It  was  from  this  point  of  refuge  and  of  Christian 
activity  that  the  new  grand  enterprise  was  to  be 
undertaken.  It  is  impossible  not  to  recognize  a  kind 
of  unspectacular  but  profound  sense  of  the  magnitude 
of  the  issues  involved  in  the  transactions  of  that 
memorable  hour,  in  the  simple,  stately  way  in  which 
the  inspired  narrative  pauses,  as  it  were,  to  count  up 
the  resources  at  the  disposal  of  the  Antioch  Church, 
and  describes  the  solemn  setting  apart  of  two  of  its 
teachers  to  the  great  enterprise  before  them.  There 
is  no  beating  of  drums  or  roll  of  Gospel-wagons  to  be 
heard,  but  there  is  a  simple,  humble,  consecrated 
action  which  has  left  its  impress,  not  on  the  Gospel 
narrative   alone,  but    on    the   history  of  the  universal 


1^8  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEOX    WALKER,    D.D. 

Church  forever.  Let  us  read  the  eternally  memorable 
words  which  record  this  new  departure  in  Christian 
history  :  — 

Now  there  were  at  Antioch,  in  the  church  that  was  there, 
prophets  and  teachers,  Barnabas  and  Symeon  that  was  called 
Niger,  and  Lucius  of  Cyrene,  and  Manaen  the  foster-brother  of 
Herod  the  tetrarch,  and  Saul.  And  as  they  ministered  to  the  Lord, 
and  fasted,  the  Holy  Ghost  said.  Separate  me  Barnabas  and 
Saul. 

The  first-named  and  the  last-named  it  will  be  noticed 
of  all  the  Antioch  prophets  or  teachers. 

Separate  me  Barnabas  and  Saul  for  the  work  whereunto  I 
have  called  them.  Then,  when  they  had  fasted  and  prayed  and 
laid  their  hands  on  them,  they  sent  them  away. 

Into  the  general  results  of  this  simply  but  solemnly 
instituted  missionary  campaign,  it  is  impossible  at  the 
present  time  to  enter.  As  I  have  intimated,  all  the 
remaining  fifteen  chapters  of  the  book  of  the  Acts  are 
in  effect  but  a  story  of  the  results  of  the  action  then 
taken  and  of  the  call  of  Saul  to  a  leadership  in  the 
enterprise. 

The  purpose  for  which  I  have  brought  this  critical 
moment  of  Gospel-history  forward  at  this  time,  is  to 
call  attention  to  the  participation  in  it  of  one  man 
whose  name  is  nowhere  else  mentioned  in  the  Gospel- 
story,  but  whose  briefly-suggested  experience  and 
whose  co()peration  in  a  transaction  like  this,  is  suited, 
as  it  seems  to  me,  to  lead  to  some  interesting  and  prac- 
tical suggestions.  What  a  book  the  Bible  is  in  thus 
dropping  by  the  way,  almost  unnoticed  in  our  intent- 
ness  on  the  main  drift  of  its  teachings,  suggestions  of 
the  richest  significance  in  these  scarcely-regarded 
clauses  and  expressions  ! 


SERMONS. 


159 


We  read  that  there  was  among  these  original 
"  Commissioners  for  Foreign  Missions"  in  the  Antioch 
Church,  a  prophet  or  teacher  called  "  Manaen  the 
foster-brother  of  Herod  the  tetrarch." 

"Herod  the  tetrarch" — what  ugly  remembrances 
that  name  brings  up  to  mind  !  Herod ;  the  tetrarch 
was  the  son  of  Herod  the  murderer  of  the  children  in 
all  the  vicinity  of  Bethlehem  ;  massacred  in  the  hope 
of  frustrating  the  prophecy  which  spoke  of  the  birth  of 
Jesus  in  David's  town.  He  was  that  old  Herod's  son 
by  one  of  his,  then  living,  nine  wives,  Malthace,  a 
Samaritan  woman.  He  was  the  man  who  having  been 
appointed  by  his  father's  will  tetrarch  of  "  Peraea  and 
Galilee,"  and  being  married  to  a  daughter  of  Aretas 
King  of  Arabia,  had  taken  a  fancy  to  marry  also  his 
sister-in-law,  his  own  half-brother's  wife,  Herodias. 
She  had  accepted  his  proposals,  deserted  her  own  hus- 
band, brought  a  war  on  between  Herod  and  his  father- 
in-law  Aretas,  and  as  one  indecent  and  memorable  in- 
cident of  this  disgraceful  episode  on  her  part  and  her 
husband's,  had  caused  her  daughter,  in  a  drunken 
revel,  to  dance  before  Herod  and  his  boon  associates  ; 
and,  as  there  ward  for  this  unwomanly  behavior,  had 
secured  the  murder  of  John  the  Baptist,  who  had 
objected  to  the  unlawful  marriage  into  which  Herodias 
had  entered.  Herod  the  tetrarch  was  the  man,  too, 
who  coming  down  to  Jerusalem  at  the  time  of  the 
Passover,  in  the  year  thirty  of  our  era,  had  been  sent 
to  by  Pilate  to  help  him  out  of  a  dilemma  in  which 
Pilate  found  himself.  A  prisoner,  accused  of  rebellion 
against  the  Roman  authority,  had  been  brought  before 
Pilate  for  judgment.  Pilate  could  find  no  fault  in 
Him ;   but    as    the    governor   had    heard    Him    called 


l6o  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

"Jesus  of  Nazareth  "  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  could 
get  out  of  his  difficulty  by  sending  the  prisoner  to 
Herod,  for  Nazareth  was  a  town  in  Herod's  tetrarchy. 
So  to  Herod  he  sent  Him.  We  know  how  the  experi- 
ment resulted.  Jesus  refused  even  to  answer  one  of 
Herod's  questions.  Whereupon  Herod,  having  first 
scourged  Him,  caused  Him  to  be  clothed  in  mock 
raiments  of  royalty,  with  fastastic  crown  and  sceptre, 
and  opprobrious  ridicule  and  abuse,  and  sent  Him  back 
to  Pilate  in  derision  and  contempt.  A  few  years  after 
this  transaction,  stirred  up  by  the  importunity  of 
Herodias,  who  wanted  him  to  have  the  title  of  "  King  " 
rather  than  that  of  "Tetrarch,"  Herod  went  to  Rome 
to  endeavor  to  get  that  title  conferred  on  him  by  the 
Emperor  Caligula,  with  whom  he  had  had  a  boyhood 
acquaintance.  Here,  however,  he  was  met  by  accusa- 
tions of  treasonable  correspondence  with  the  Parthians, 
and  instead  of  gaining  the  new  title  was  deprived  of  his 
old  one  and  banished  into  Gaul,  whence  he  subse- 
quently went  into  Spain,  dying  there  in  exile ;  his  wife 
Herodias  —  this  may  be  said  for  her  —  sticking  by 
him  and  sharing  his  downfall  to  the  last. 

This  was  the  man  to  whom  Manaen,  a  prophet  or 
teacher  of  the  Antioch  Church,  stood  in  the  relation  of 
foster-brother. 

The  word  avvTpo^o<i,  which  our  new  translators  have 
rendered  "foster-brother,"  and  which  the  translators 
of  King  James's  version  rendered  "  brought  up  with," 
is,  perhaps,  capable  of  either  significance.  It  may 
mean,  as  the  old  version  suggests,  than  Manaen  had 
been,  according  to  a  custom  not  unknown  in  the 
Roman  and  oriental  world,  selected  in  childhood  to  be 
the  playmate  and  companion  of  young  Herod  ;  being 


SERMONS.  l6l 

brought  up  with  him  for  the  purpose  of  having  at 
hand  always  an  associate  of  his  own  age.  Or  it  may 
mean  in  the  stricter  sense  of  the  word  that  the  infant 
Herod  and  the  infant  Manaen  both  nursed  at  the  same 
breast, — the  probability  being  in  this  case  that 
Manaen's  mother  acted  as  nurse  to  old  Herod's  infant 
child. 

The  two  views  are  not  inconsistent  with  one  another, 
and  there  are  some  historic  facts  which  give  plausi- 
bility to  the  idea  that  they  may  both  be  true.  Josephus 
preserves  an  interesting  story  concerning  an  old 
Manaen,  a  member  of  the  sect  of  Essenes,  and  the  old 
Herod,  —  father  of  the  Herod  of  whom  we  are  now 
speaking,  —  that  may  account  for  one  or  both  of  the 
relationships  which  have  been  suggested  between  the 
younger  Manaen  and  the  younger  Herod.  When  the 
old  Herod,  afterward  known  as  Herod  the  Great,  was 
only  about  fifteen  years  of  age,  a  member  of  the 
Essene  fraternity  of  religious  recluses,  some  of  whom 
had  families  and  some  not,  named  Manaen,  a  man  re- 
puted to  be  of  unusual  piety  and  prophetic  insight, 
had  met  the  boy  Herod,  and  predicted  for  him  a  great 
future  and  the  attainment  of  royal  dignity.  Herod 
never  forgot  the  augury,  and  always  manifested,  — 
brutal  and  wicked  man  though  he  was,  —  a  special 
favor  toward  the  sect  of  which  the  elder  Manaen  was 
a  member. 

Perfectly  natural  would  it  have  been,  therefore, 
when  the  exigencies  of  his  household  required  the 
ofifices  of  a  foster-mother  for  his  young  child,  that  the 
elder  Herod  should  have  accepted  the  aid  in  this 
capacity  of  the  elder  Manaen's  wife ;  and  that  so  the 
young  tetrarch  and  the  young  prophet  of  the  Church 


l62  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

of  Antioch  should  have  been  nursed  in  their  infancy 
by  the  wife  of  the  man  who  a  few  years  before  had 
foretold  the  elder  Herod's  greatness.  Equally  natural 
would  it  be  that  a  relationship  so  established  should  be 
continued,  so  that  the  foster-brother  connection  of 
babyhood  should  be  succeeded  by  the  childhood  com- 
panionship of  subsequent  years,  vindicating  tlius  the 
interpretation  put  by  classic  custom  and  by  the  trans- 
lators of  our  older  version,  upon  the  word  avvrpo^o^, 
—  a  child  "  brought  up  with  "  another.  Either  way,  or 
both  ways,  — and  both  ways  seem  on  the  whole  the 
most  probable  explanation  of  the  matter,  —  we  see 
Manaen,  one  of  the  Christian  teachers  of  the  Antioch 
Church  and  one  of  the  founders  of  Christian  missions, 
standing  in  a  relation  which  the  Word  of  God  has  seen 
fit  everlastingly  to  put  on  record,  to  Herod  Antipas, 
the  beheader  of  John  the  Baptist,  the  scourger  and 
mocker  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  the  disgraced  ex- 
periencer  of  a  Gallic  prisoner's  obscurity  and  a  Spanish 
exile's  death. 

Well,  now,  the  facts  hardly  seem  to  need  much 
elaborateness  of  comment.  The  lessons  of  them,  — 
and  we  cannot  but  believe  the  divinely  intended 
lessons,  —  stand  out  with  great  distinctness  on  the 
very  surface  of  the  story.  And  they  involve  not 
merely  biographical  suggestions  of  wide  application  to 
other  lives  than  those  two  here  spoken  of,  but  moral 
suggestions  of  deep  and  abiding  importance.  It  is  only 
with  a  hasty  and  undeveloping  brevity  that  we  can  glance 
at  two  or  three  of  the  inevitably  arising  reflections  of 
this  recorded  association  of  Herod  and  Manaen. 

I  mention,  then,  first  the  lowest  and  least  important 
of  these  suggestions. 


SICR.MONS. 


163 


How  far  apart  two  lives  can  go  which  seem  once  to 
have  been  almost  the  same. 

It  is  with  these  mental  and  moral  beings  of  ours 
much  as  it  is  with  the  drops  of  water  which  fall  on  the 
high  ridge-land  of  some  great  continental  dividing 
mountain  range.  A  little  deflection  this  way  or  that 
way  makes  all  the  difference  between  their  rolling 
down  the  swift  descent  to  the  Pacific  Ocean,  or  their 
tracking  all  the  thousand  miles  of  Missouri's  and 
Mississippi's  turbid  waters  to  lose  themselves  in 
Mexico's  gulf  and  Atlantic's  stormier  waves.  A  drift 
of  cloud  eastward  or  westward,  a  little  accidental 
barrier  of  snow,  a  tree  fallen  across  a  rivulet's  path, 
make  all  the  difference  between  destinies  so  wide- 
sundered  !  How  full  human  history  is  of  these  near 
proximities  ending  in  such  wide  asunderments  ! 
From  Cain  and  Abel  born  into  the  same  primeval 
household  down  to  the  younger  Edwards  and  Aaron 
Burr,  cousins  and  schoolmates,  or,  speaking  of  less 
sinister  contrasts,  down  to  Daniel  Webster,  the  ex- 
pounder of  the  Constitution,  and  Thomas  Merrill, 
pastor  of  the  Church  in  Middlebury,  Vermont,  who 
took  the  valedictory  away  from  his  classmate  Webster, 
these  contrasts  and  sunderments  meet  us  on  every  side. 

The  poets  have  a  hundred  times  found  in  this  con- 
tact and  separation  of  human  lives  some  of  the  most 
beautiful  of  their  similes,  sometimes  among  the  most 
pathetic  of  their  strains. 

Alexander  Smith's  figure  of  two  lives  meeting:  like 
two  ships  upon  the  sea  :  — 

One  little  hour,  and  then  away  they  speed 
On  lonely  paths,  through  mist  and  clouds  and  foam 
To  meet  no  more. 


164  REN'EREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

is  familiar  to  us  all.     Arthur  Hugh  Clough  has  put 
the  same  idea  into  more  elaborate  lines  : 

As  ships,  becalmed  at  eve,  that  lay 
With  canvas  drooping,  side  by  side, 

Two  towers  of  sail  at  dawn  of  day 

Are  scarce  long  leagues  apart  descried; 

E'en  so,  —  but  why  the  tale  reveal 

Of  those  whom,  year  by  year  unchanged, 

Brief  absence  joined  anew  to  feel 
Astounded,  soul  from  soul  estranged. 

And  the  still  more  familiar  lines  of  Tennyson  in 
which  he  figures  forth  the  divided  lives  of  his  departed 
friend,  Arthur  Hallam,  and  himself,  under  the  com- 
parison of  the  divided  lives  of  two  old  playmates  and 
schoolmates  of  some  country  village,  occur  naturally 
to  our  thoughts  :  — 

Dost  thou  look  back  on  what  hath  been. 

As  some  divinely  gifted  man, 

Whose  life  in  low  estate  began, 
And  on  a  simple  village  green  ; 

Who  breaks  his  birth's  invidious  bar, 
And  grasps  the  skirts  of  happy  chance, 
And  breasts  the  blows  of  circumstance. 

And  grapples  with  his  evil  star; 

Who  makes  by  force  his  merit  known 
And  lives  to  clutch  the  gokien  keys, 
To  mould  a  mighty  state's  decrees, 

And  shape  the  whisper  of  the  throne. 

And  moving  up  from  high  to  higher. 
Becomes  on  Fortune's  crowning  slope 
The  pillar  of  a  people's  hope. 

The  centre  of  a  world's  desire : 


SERMONS.  165 

Yet  feels  as  in  a  pensive  dream. 

When  all  his  active  powers  are  still, 
A  distant  dearness  in  the  hill, 

A  secret  sweetness  in  the  stream, 

The  limit  of  his  narrower  fate. 

While  yet  beside  its  vocal  springs 
He  play'd  at  Counsellors  and  Kings, 

With  one  that  was  his  earliest  mate  ; 

Who  ploughs  with  pain  his  native  lea 
And  reaps  the  labour  of  his  hands, 
Or  in  the  furrow  musing  stands, 

"  Does  my  old  friend  remember  me  ?  " 

Yes !  this  is  one  of  life's  commonest  experiences. 
And  of  this  experience  on  all  sides  of  its  possible  illus- 
tration,—  social,  moral,  and  eternal,  — we  could  hardly 
have  a  more  vivid  reminder  than  in  these  words  con- 
cerning the  teacher  of  the  Antioch  Church  in  this 
first  great  missionary  enterprise,  that  he  was  the 
"foster-brother  of  Herod  the  tetrarch." 

A  suggestion  coming  somewhat  closer  to  a  distinctly 
moral  and  practical  principle,  in  this  Scripture-noted 
association  between  Herod  and  Manaen,  is  the 
thought  that  what  a  man  brings  with  him  into  the 
world,  brings  with  him  when  a  helpless  infant  appa- 
rently no  more  self-determining  or  definite  in  moral 
character  than  a  jelly-fish,  has  a  mighty  influence  in 
determining  what  he  is  to  become. 

I  used  as  an  illustration  a  few  minutes  ago  the  figure 
of  a  drop  of  water  almost  accidentally  deflected  this  way 
or  that  way  in  its  course  to  the  sea,  as  typical  of  the 
course  of  human  lives.  The  illustration  is  partly  true, 
—  as  I  shall  have  occasion  to  emphasize  further  on, — 


l66  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEO\    WALKER,    D.D. 

but  it  is  partly  not  true,  as  I  am  concerned  to  show 
just  now.  Men  bring  with  them  into  the  world  a  good 
deal  of  what  determines  their  character  in  the  world, 
and  their  history  in  going  out  of  it.  Here  lay  these  two 
infants,  Herod  and  Manaen,  hardly  more  than  a  foot 
long,  drawing  sustenance  by  turns  from  the  same  mater- 
nal or  foster-maternal  source.  Who  could  tell  of  any 
difference  between  them  ?  What  microscope  or  dis- 
secting scalpel  could  have  discovered  in  these  two  plastic 
little  bundles  of  physical  being  the  future  murderer  of 
John  the  Baptist  and  scourger  of  the  meek  prisoner  of 
Nazareth,  and  the  future  prophet  of  the  Missionary 
Church  of  Antioch  ?  No  surgeon  or  bacteriologist 
could  possibly  have  discerned  that  invisible  something 
which,  to  so  great  an  extent,  made  each  what  he  was. 
That  something  came  with  the  little  bundle  of  humanity 
which  we  call  a  baby  into  the  world.  Herod  was  the 
child  of  a  bad  father,  —  a  father  whose  name  has  stood 
these  nineteen  hundred  years  as  a  synonym  for 
brutality,  cruelty,  and  hate,  —  by  one  of  his  nine 
wives,  a  woman  of  the  mixed  and  uncertain  blood  of 
the  Samaritans,  one  of  the  descendants  of  the  people 
with  whom  the  Jews  were  taught  to  have  no  inter- 
course. Manaen  was,  it  seems  altogether  probable, 
the  child  of  parents  not  only  pure  Jews,  but  Jews  of  a 
particularly  strict  and  ascetic  religious  order.  Behind 
both  children  lay  histories  diverse  as  their  destinies. 
The  generations  before  which  had  gone  to  the  making 
of  them  had  been  as  dissimilar  as  the  pathways  they 
were  themselves  to  tread.  No  most  observant  inves- 
tigator taking  up  those  two  little  human  midgets  by 
turns  could  say  which  was  to  be  the  prophet  and 
which  was  to  be  the  murderer.     Yet  who  can  doubt 


SERMONS. 


167 


that  the  solution  of  the  question  was  even  then  very 
largely  hid  somewhere  in  those  two  small  lumps  of 
mortal  clay  ? 

This  is  only  analogous  to  what  we  find  to  be  the 
facts  in  relation  to  all  other  branches  of  life.  You 
want  a  good  dog.  You  are  not  content  to  see  that  the 
puppy  which  is  offered  to  you  is  a  very  good  looking 
puppy.  You  want  to  know  what  sort  of  a  father  and 
mother  he  had.  A  member  of  the  sporting  fraternity 
wants  a  fast  horse.  It  does  not  answer  to  tell  him 
that  this  colt  has  good  points  and  has  shown  remark- 
able speed.  He  wants  to  know  whether  the  colt 
comes  of  a  family  in  which  speed  is  an  inheritance.  I 
am  not  a  horse-man  myself,  but  my  eye  fell  only  a  few 
weeks  ago  on  the  account  of  a  race  whereof  the  inter- 
est, —  an  interest  that  I  have  no  doubt  was  felt  by 
more  persons  in  this  country  than  would  be  concerned 
about  the  question  of  who  was  president  of  Yale 
University,  —  the  interest  was  whether  the  Mambrino 
or  the  Hambletonian  family,  represented  in  the  two 
competitors,  would  beat  in  the  contest. 

To  a  great  extent,  it  is  so  in  the  history  of  human 
life.  This  is  what  gives  a  sweet,  true,  honest,  godly 
ancestry  its  priceless  worth.  That  my  father  was  or 
was  not  a  millionaire  is  a  question  almost  insignificant 
to  me,  save  so  far  as  it  might  express  and  cast  light  on 
the  quality' of  his  character.  But  that  he  was  a  simple, 
sincere,  devout  man,  who  served  God  and  his  genera- 
tion to  the  best  of  his  powers,  is  a  matter  of  infinite 
concernment  to  me.  That  my  mother  wore  or  did  not 
wear  the  habiliments  of  a  queen  is  absolutely  beneath 
consideration.  That  she  was  a  queen  radiant  in  the 
light  of  a  pure,  true  womanhood,  and  regnant,  within 


l68  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

her  sphere,  by  the  divine  right  of  a  noble  character  — • 
that  is  something  to  the  purpose.  This  is  what  makes 
family  feeling  a  justifiable  feeling  and  a  matter  to  be 
solicitous  about.  This  is  what  makes  the  question  of 
matrimonial  alliances  on  the  part  of  young  people  a 
question  of  supremest  concern.  Are  you  marrying  a 
man  or  are  you  marrying  a  position,  is  the  question 
which  comes  home,  if  she  only  knew  it  aright,  to  every 
young  bride  at  the  altar.  Are  you  marrying  a  woman 
or  only  a  fortune  or  a  fashion  plate,  is  the  question  for 
the  bridegroom  to  ponder.  Life's  happiness  for  the 
young  people  themselves  depends  on  the  answer  to  be 
given  to  those  questions.  Life's  result  for  their  pos- 
terity, also,  is  largely  involved  in  the  reply.  Wise  and 
happy  are  they  who  in  the  solution  of  this  great  prob- 
lem of  youthful  life  put  that  first  which  is  first,  and 
who  choose  above  bonds  and  mortgages,  or  pretty  face 
and  fashionable  connections,  character  which  is  true, 
and  lineage  which  is  without  a  blot  on  its  scutcheon. 

But  having  said  this,  which  I  think  is  not  only 
justified  but  compelled  by  the  plain  facts  of  human 
life,  I  must  suggest  that  there  is,  also,  another  side  to 
the  matter  which  needs  as  well  to  be  taken  into  view, 
and  in  which  the  simile  of  the  early  deflected  water- 
drop  or  the  early-bent  twig  has  also  a  place. 

We  cannot  doubt  that  however  Manaen  and  Herod 
may  have  been  "brought  up  together"  there  were  ex- 
ternal influences,  none-the-less,  which  diversely  co-ope- 
rated in  making  them  what  they  became.  Herod  was 
the  son  of  Herod  and  Malthace,  and  however  intimately 
he  was  associated  with  Manaen,  it  is  impossible  not  to 
suppose  that  family  instructions  and  influences  had 
their  share  in  making  the  son  of  the  slayer  of  Bcthle- 


SERMONS. 


169 


hem's  children  and  of  the  mongrel-blooded  Samaritan 
woman  what  he  became.  On  the  other  hand,  however 
closely  associated  with  Herod  Manaen  may  have  been, 
he  was  still  the  son  of  a  devout  Jew  and  Jewess,  who 
cannot  be  regarded  as  having  forgotten  their  parental 
obligations  in  any  temporary  lending  of  the  mother  or 
of  the  child  to  the  welfare  of  the  Herodian  family. 
Manaen  was  not  Malthace's  son,  and  it  is  not  possible 
that  his  mother  ever  allowed  him  to  be  treated  as  if  he 
were.  She  had  her  own  hold  on  him,  body  and  soul. 
And,  though  the  details  of  the  story  are  all  lost  to  us, 
we  cannot  doubt  from  the  issue,  —  since  figs  do  not 
grow  out  of  thistles,  or  corn  grow  even  out  of  good 
ground  without  culture, — that  Manaen's  mother  was 
as  another  Hannah  in  her  training  of  her  child.  And 
here  is  where  an  element  of  tremendous  power  and 
encouragement  appears  in  dealing  with  youthful  life. 
It  is  a  good  deal  like  the  turning  of  the  water-drop 
westward  to  the  Pacific  or  eastward  to  the  Gulf.  A 
power  stands  at  the  fountain-head  of  childhood's  being, 
of  incalculable  potency  in  determining  its  direction  and 
quality.  Even  supposing  there  are  original  wrong  tend- 
encies in  a  child's  nature,  —  the  inheritances  of  a  bad 
ancestry,  — who  can  tell  how  far  these  can  be  cor- 
rected and  neutralized  by  patience  and  fidelity  in  the 
plastic  days  of  early  impression  and  of  formation  of 
habit  ?  Habit  is  a  tremendous  educator.  It  will 
accomplish  marvelous  results,  even  in  the  face  of  in- 
herited obstacles.  And  habits  of  right-doing,  and  to  a 
great  extent  of  right  feeling,  are  the  part  of  parental 
privilege  to  inculcate  and  secure.  This  is  what  lends 
tremendous  responsibility,  but  also  not  less  measureless 
privilege,  to  motherly  and  fatherly  influence  over  youth- 


lyo 


REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 


fill  life.  That  influence  can  never  be  calculated.  It 
can  work  wonders  even  against  inherited  odds.  It  is 
a  true  saying:  "As  the  twig  is  bent  the  tree  inclines," 
and  it  is  as  true  of  the  thorn  as  of  the  poplar. 

And  in  this  work  of  training  human  lives,  if  any- 
where in  this  world,  divine  aid  may  be  sought  and 
expected.  If  God  hears  the  ravens  when  they  cry  for 
food  for  their  nestlings,  will  He  not  hear  parental 
prayers  for  the  welfare  of  children  of  immortality  ? 
Doubt  we  cannot,  that,  if  in  any  undertaking  to  which 
a  man  can  set  his  hand  in  this  universe  the  sympathy 
of  God  is  with  him,  it  is  in  this  work  of  making  better, 
purer,  more  honest,  more  Christian,  a  child's  life.  It 
was  this  co-operant  sympathy  of  God  with  parental 
endeavor,  may  we  not  believe,  which  made  the  foster- 
brother  of  Herod  the  tetrarch  one  of  the  teachers  of 
the  Church  of  Antioch  and  one  of  the  inaugurators  of 
that  missionary  enterprise  which  is  yet  to  convert  a 
world  to  Christ. 


SERMONS.  171 


X. 

FILLING  UP  THAT  WHICH  IS  LACKING.* 

COLOSSIANS    I  :    24. 

II  lio  now  rejoice  in  my  sufferings  for  yon,  and  Jill  up  tliat  luhich 
is  behind  of  the  afflictions  of  Christ  in  my  flesh  for  His 
body's  sake,  which  is  the  Church. 

There  are  some  passages  of  Scripture  which  are  Hke 
the  world's  great  battle-fields.  Contesting  interpreta- 
tions have  wrestled  over  them,  as  struggling  armies 
wrestled  at  Waterloo  or  Gettysburg.  This  passage  is 
one  of  them.  Reading  the  words  of  our  text,  the 
Church  of  Rome  claims  that  she  finds  in  them  a  sup- 
port for  her  doctrine  of  supererogatory  and  substitu- 
tive merit  in  the  sufferings  of  the  saints.  She  appeals 
to  this  passage,  among  others,  in  defense  of  the  idea 
of  an  efficacy  in  the  lives  of  good  men  to  atone  for  at 
least  some  kinds  of  guilt.  While  ascribing,  indeed,  to 
Christ  the  work  of  atoning  for  original  sin,  she  accords 
to  human  merit  and  suffering  a  power  to  expiate  many 
actual  transgressions.  The  blood  of  Christ  blots  out 
the  native  and  inherent  guiltiness  of  the  race ;  but  the 
blood  of  martyrs  and  the  tears  of  saints  have  also  an 
expiatory  office.  The  lesser  lapses  of  the  faithful  are 
cleansed    by  them.     The    lighter  faults    are  forgiven 

*  Written  in  1869,  about  live  months  after  the  death  of  his 
younger  son. 


172  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

for  their  sake.  They  constitute  a  reserve-fund  ot 
grace,  supplemental  to  that  afforded  by  the  atonement 
of  Christ.  This  reserved  fund  of  merit  is  at  the 
Church's  disposal.  The  keys  to  it  are  hers.  She  can 
apply  it  to  whom  she  will.  Paul,  she  asserts,  was  con- 
gratulating himself  on  a  contribution  that  he  was  mak- 
ing to  this  fund  of  supplemental  merit,  when  he  wrote  : 

Who  now  rejoice  in  my  sufferings  for  you,  and  fill  up  that 
which  is  behind  of  the  afflictions  of  Christ  in  my  flesh,  for  his 
body's  sake,  which  is  the  Church. 

But  such  a  doctrine  as  this  has  not  commended 
itself  to  the  judgment  of  men  where  the  Bible  has  been 
read  in  the  light  which  the  Reformation  shed  on  its 
pages.  P"or  nothing  can  be  more  repugnant  to  the 
whole  drift,  or  to  the  express  statements,  of  Scripture 
than  the  idea  of  any  insufficiency,  requiring  to  be  sup- 
plied from  any  quarter,  in  the  expiatory  work  of 
Christ.  On  the  contrary,  that  work  is  uniformly 
represented  as  complete  in  itself.  It  wants  nothing  to 
supplement  it.  There  is  nothing  which  can  add  to  its 
efficacy.  Christ's  life  and  death  constitute  in  them- 
selves a  perfect  oblation  and  atonement  for  human  sin. 
They  afford  the  only  ground  for  its  forgiveness.  And 
no  apostle  has  more  frequently  or  powerfully  affirmed 
this  complete  and  all-sufficient  character  of  Christ's 
work  than  has  Paul.  To  imagine  any  insufficiency  in 
Christ's  sacrifice,  to  conceive  of  any  other  sacrifice  as 
needful  to  make  up  that  deficiency,  is  not  only  com- 
pletely opposed  to  Scripture  as  a  whole,  but,  if  attributed 
to  Paul,  places  him  in  the  grossest  contradiction  with 
himself. 

Whatever,  therefore,  Paul  did  mean  in  this  ]'>assage. 


SERMONS. 


^73 


certain  it  is  that  he  did  not  mean  to  imply  that  his 
sufferings,  or  any  one's  sufferings,  were  supplemental 
to  the  efficacy  of  Christ's  sacrifice. 

But  in  the  recoil  from  this  Roman  interpretation  of 
the  passage  under  consideration,  another  view  of  it  has 
been  taken  by  many  Protestant  commentators  which 
seems  to  me  in  an  equal  degree  erroneous.  That  in- 
terpretation is  this. 

Paul,  it  is  said,  is  simply  giving  utterance  to  his 
rejoicing  that  he  is  filling  up  that  portion  of  suffering 
which  has  been  appointed  to  him  to  endure  in  the 
cause  of  Christ.  A  certain  number  of  trials  and  hard- 
ships had  been  divinely  allotted  to  him  to  bear ;  and 
some  of  them  were  still  unborne.  They  were  yet 
"  behind."  The  measure  was  not  yet  full.  But  it  was 
filling.  It  would  soon  be  complete.  The  last  of  the 
trials  it  was  appointed  to  him  to  endure  in  the  Chris- 
tian service  would  soon  be  encountered  ;  and  then  the 
work  on  his  part  would  be  done.  He  rejoiced,  there- 
fore, in  his  sufferings,  as  completing  that  measure  and 
hastening  his  release. 

This  interpretation  of  the  Apostle's  meaning  cer- 
tainly contains  no  heresy.  It  is  quite  true  so  far  as  it 
is  anything.  If  anyone  can  content  himself  with  it,  it 
is  quite  optional  to  adopt  it.  But  it  is  an  interpreta- 
tion which  simply  empties  the  passage  of  all  value.  It 
seems  not  accordant  with  the  context,  nor  with  the 
great-thoughted  man  who  uttered  it,  nor  with  the 
grand  Gospel  of  which  he  is  here  affirming  one  of  the 
grandest  of  truths. 

A  meaning  far  deeper  and  more  wide-reaching  than 
this  lies  in  the  language  of  the  Apostle.  And  this 
meaning  has  been   discerned  in   it   by   many  of   the 


1-4  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

wisest  of  men  whose  studies  liave  illuminated  for  us 
the  Gospel  page.  I  need  only  refer  to  Calvin  and 
Melanchthon  and  Grotius  and  Bengel,  among  many 
others,  to  indicate  that  the  view  of  the  passage  I  am 
about  to  present  is  one  which  has  commended  itself  to 
some  of  the  best  interpreters  of  the  sacred  Word. 
The  view,  then,  which  I  present  is  this  :  — 

And  fill  up  that  which  is  behind  of  the  afflictions  of  Christ  in 
my  flesh,  for  His  body's  sake,  which  is  the  Church. 

What  are  those  "afflictions  "  of  Christ  ?  What  is  it 
which  " remains  behind"  unfulfilled.''  The  reference 
here  is  not  to  the  sufferings  which  Christ  endured  in 
His  single  person  in  His  work  of  expiating  human  sin  ; 
but  to  the  afflictions  which  He  bears  through  the  trials 
of  the  Church  which  is  His  body,  and  by  reason  of 
His  unity  with  it.  It  is  worthy  of  remark  that  the 
Apostle  does  not  say  "  what  is  behind  of  the  irad^fjuara, 
the  passion,  of  Christ ;  but  simply  the  dXi'xIret'?,  the 
afflictions,  of  Christ  ;  affliction  being  that  common 
term  which  is  applicable  to  all  human  sufferings.  In 
other  words,  Paul,  in  this  passage,  contemplates  Christ 
in  the  same  aspect  in  which  he  often  elsewhere  repre- 
sents Him,  as  one  with  His  members.  He  is  so 
identified  with  His  Church,  that  what  affects  it  affects 
Him.  As  elsewhere,  this  same  Apostle,  writing  to 
the  Corinthians,  sets  forth  the  unity  of  Christ  and  His 
Church  under  the  figure  of  a  human  body,  in  which  if 
one  member  suffers  the  whole  body  suffers,  so  here  he 
contemplates  the  afflictions  to  be  endured  by  the 
Church  identified  with  Christ  as  the  yet-unfulfilled 
afflictions  of  Christ  Himself.  Nor  can  we  forget,  in 
this  connection,   what  a  divine  warrant, —  a   warrant 


SERMONS. 


175 


even  from  the  lips  of  Christ, —  Paul  had  for  this  man- 
ner of  speaking.  We  do  not  forget,  and  surely  he 
never  forgot,  that  word  which  sounded  to  him  out  of 
the  skies  above  him  as  he  was  on  his  way  to  carry 
bonds  and  imprisonment  to  the  Christians  at  Damascus. 
That  voice  had  said  to  him  :  "  Saul,  Saul,  why  perse- 
cutest  thou  Me  ?  "  "  Persecutest  thou  Me  !  "  His  perse- 
cution of  the  disciples  was  persecution  of  the  Master. 
The  woes  he  inflicted  on  them  were  woes  inflicted  on 
Him,  whose  they  were.  And  so  was  it  with  all  their 
calamities.  Paul  never  forgot  that  lesson.  He 
remembered  that  in  all  the  afflictions  of  Christ's  peo- 
ple forever,  Christ  is  afflicted.  As  He  suffered  once 
in  His  own  single  person  for  the  expiation  of  human 
sin,  so  now  He  daily  shares  the  sufferings  of  His 
people.  And  much  of  this  kind  of  affliction  remains 
"yet  behind."  The  sorrows  of  Christ's  members  are 
not  complete. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  these  sufferings  are  not 
limitless.  They  are  fixed  in  quality  and  amount.  The 
measure  of  trouble  which  the  whole  Church  is  to 
endure  is  determined.  God  has  appointed  the  sum. 
And  every  labor  and  sorrow  undergone  in  the 
Church's  behalf,  diminishes  the  amount.  Each  drop 
of  bitterness  drained  out  lessens  that  which  is  to  be 
drained.  Each  trial  of  one, —  such  is  the  commission 
of  the  saints  !  —  takes  away  something  from  that  which 
is  to  be  borne  by  all.  It  fills  up  a  little  of  "  that  which 
is  behind  of  the  afflictions  of  Christ,"  in  "  His  body, 
which  is  the  Church."  So  the  work  will  go  on, 
through  the  struggles  and  sorrows  of  God's  people,  till 
there  are  wholly  "filled  up"  those  measures  of  trial 
which  are  appointed  to  Christ's  body  by  the  eternal 


1^6  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

plan.  Now  comes  this  wonderful  Apostle,  this  simple 
great  soul,  and  says  :  "I  rejoice  in  my  sufferings  for 
you.  I  am  happy  that  I  may  fill  up  something  of 
what  is  behind  of  the  sufferings  of  Christ,"  which  else 
must  fall  on  some  other  of  His  members.  Glad  am  I, 
that  I  may  thus  myself  drain  some  of  the  bitter  drops, 
which,  if  I  drink  not,  will  be  left  for  other  lips.  I  do 
it  for  His  body's  sake.  The  more  it  is  permitted  me 
to  sustain,  the  less  will  be  left  behind  to  bear.  Grand, 
generous,  wonderful  Paul !  These  are  words  worthy 
of  thee,  and  of  the  Gospel !  They  fit  thy  character ! 
They  express  thy  spirit !     They  utter  forth  the  truth  ! 

Accepting  the  interpretation  of  the  Apostle's  lan- 
guage which  has  now  been  set  forth,  I  turn  to  some 
suggestions  to  which  it  is  suited  to  give  rise. 

Glance  a  moment,  as  one  of  them,  at  the  sort  of  life 
which  this  conception  of  his  relations  to  others,  and  of 
the  office  of  his  sufferings,  opened  to  Paul  himself. 
To  him  it  opened  the  opportunity  of  a  life  of  vast  and 
indeterminable  benefits  to  the  Church.  The  stream 
of  good  which  should  flow  forth  from  his  labors  and 
sacrifices  should  flow  wide  and  far.  The  whole 
brotherhood,  whether  they  recognized  it  or  not,  should 
share  in  it.  For  the  heavier  the  burden  pressed  on 
him  the  lighter  would  be  the  load  left  "  behind  "  to  be 
borne.  Such  was  the  solidarity  of  that  companionship 
created  by  unity  with  Christ  the  common  Head,  that 
something  should  be  done  for  each  by  the  endeavor  of 
any.  Paul's  life  was  thus  made,  in  a  true  sense,  a 
vicarious  life.  It  took  on  the  likeness  of  Christ's  life, 
in  that  it  was  a  life  by  the  sacrifices  and  sufferings  of 
which  others  were  to  be  blessed.  It  became  a  life 
exemplifying   that    fellowship    with    the    Saviour,    of 


SERMONS. 


177 


which    Christ    spoke    when    He   said  to   the  sons    of 
Zebedee  : 

"Ye  shall  indeed  drink  of  the  cup  that  I  drink  of;  and  with 
the  baptism  I  am  baptized  withal  shall  ye  be  baptized." 

Yes !  there  rose  thus  before  the  mind  of  the  great 
Apostle  the  conception  of  a  life  conformed  to  Christ's 
in  principle,  and  similar  to  His  in  its  benefit  to  men. 
And  he  embraced  that  conception.  He  seized  upon  it 
with  joy.  He  exulted  that  such  a  life  was  possible  to 
him.  He  permitted  nothing  to  stand  in  the  way  of  its 
complete  realization.  Hear  him  as  he  tells  us  how  he 
strove  after  it : 

"  But  what  things  were  gain  to  me,  those  I  counted  loss  for 
Christ.  Yea,  doubtless,  and  I  count  all  things  but  loss  for  the 
excellency  of  the  knowledge  of  Christ  Jesus,  my  Lord  ;  for  whom 
I  have  suffered  the  loss  of  all  things  ....  that  I  may 
know  Him,  and  the  power  of  His  resulrection,  and  the  fellowship 
of  His  sufferings,  being  made  conformable  unto  [or  sharing  the 
likeness  of]  His  death  ! 

How  well  he  succeeded  in  the  endeavor !  How  real 
was  that  identification ;  how  wide  the  benefits  to 
others  which  flowed  from  it !  Who  is  there,  of  all  the 
millions  to  whom  the  Gospel  has  ever  come,  who  has 
not  been  a  partaker  in  them  .''  We  sit  here  to-day,  in 
this  Christian  sanctuary,  the  wider  in  mind,  the  purer 
in  faith,  because  of  the  labors  and  sufferings  of  this 
saint  of  old.  The  burden  presses  lighter  on  us  here, 
because  he  bore  so  much  of  it  there.  The  thoughts  of 
that  profound  intellect,  how  they  lighten  up  the  Scrip- 
ture page  !  What  radiance  they  cast  into  the  deep 
places  of  divine  truth  !  Strike  from  the  Bible  the 
Pauline   epistles,    strike   from    Christian    history   the 


lyS  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

Pauline  story,  how  vast,  how  irreparable,  the  loss,  to 
the  Church  and  to  ever}^  one  of  us,  its  members.  We 
owe  a  debt  of  thankfulness  to  that  far-off,  much-endur- 
ing soul,  that  we  can  hardly  estimate  and  never  pay. 
That  energy  of  self-sacrifice  —  it  is  our  creditor  to  this 
hour!  That  heroism  of  courage  —  it  holds  a  claim 
against  us  now !  Those  beatings  with  rods,  those 
bruisings  with  stones^  they  purchased  something  for 
us,  every  one ! 

But  I  remark,  as  a  second  suggestion  of  the  subject 
before  us,  that  the  same  principle  of  unity  with  Christ 
and  His  people  in  the  "afflictions  which  are  behind," 
has  lifted  a  conception  of  life,  similar  to  that  which 
Paul  had,  before  many  who  have  preceded  us  in  the 
Christian  service.  The  filling  up  of  that  which  was 
behind  of  the  afflictions  of  Christ,  for  His  Church's 
sake,  has  been  the  significance  of  thousands  of  lives  in 
Christian  history.  It  has  been  a  hope  and  a  glory  to 
them  that  they  might,  by  their  labors  or  pains,  drain 
out  something  of  the  bitterness  of  human  trouble,  and 
make  the  pathway  of  Gospel-service  easier  to  those 
who  should  come  after  them.  This  hope  animated  the 
primitive  martyrs  as  they  felt  the  rending  fangs  of 
the  lions  in  the  amphitheater,  or  as  they  burned  alive, 
in  pitchy  wrappings,  in  Nero's  gardens.  It  inspired 
the  courage  of  all  that  long  line  of  confessors  and 
defenders  of  the  faith,  in  those  stern  times  when 
Christianity  was  waging  its  battle  with  Paganism,  and 
so  many  of  its  noblest  and  best  died  in  the  conflict. 
It  prompted  those  who  in  later  times  stood  up  for  the 
simplicity  of  the  Gospel  against  the  corruptions  of  the 
Papacy,  and  so  stood  at  the  cost  of  home  and  reputa- 
tion and  life.     It  actuated  the  fathers  of  our  American 


SERMONS. 


179 


Christianity,  who,  for  the  sake  of  truth,  and  of  those 
who  should  come  after  them,  left  their  native  land  for 
a  wilderness,  and  the  familiar  haunts  of  cultivated  life, 
for  the  exile's  loneliness,  and  the  pioneer's  hardship. 
And  it  sustained,  too,  in  every  age,  the  patient,  un- 
noticed efforts  of  thousands  of  lowly  souls,  doing  no 
great  and  memorable  thing,  but  living  loyally  to  Christ, 
and  trying  to  lift  off  whatever  little  burden  they  could 
from  the  hearts  of  other  men. 

These  all  rejoiced  amid  their  hardship  that  it  was 
permitted  them  to  fill  up  something  of  what  was  be- 
hind of  the  afflictions  of  Christ.  These  exulted  that 
it  w^as  given  them  to  endure  a  little,  for  His  body's 
sake.  They  w^ere  glad  to  think  the  Church  would 
have  less  to  bear,  since  they  had  borne  what  they  did. 
They  were  rejoiced  to  feel  that  fewer  strokes  would 
fall  upon  other  members  of  the  one  body  because  so 
many  fell  on  them. 

And  how  true  it  is  that  we  have  less  !  We  assemble 
in  our  free  temples  of  worship.  No  manacles  fetter 
our  limbs  or  edicts  bind  our  consciences.  We  go  and 
come  on  the  sweet  ground.  No  lictor  challenges  our 
purpose,  no  inquisitor  dogs  our  steps.  We  read  our 
Bible  in  our  households.  We  teach  our  children  the 
way  to  Jesus  without  the  intervention  of  men.  We 
bury  our  dead  in  the  acre  of  God,  coveting  no  priestly 
unction  and  dreading  no  priestly  ban. 

Why  do  we  do  so  ?  Why  are  we  able  so  to  do  .^  It 
is  because  those  who  have  gone  before  us  have  made 
us  able  by  the  portion  they  have  borne  in  the  unful- 
filled afflictions  of  Christ.  The  price  of  these  things 
was  paid  by  them.  Trace  back  to  whom  we  owe  this 
debt.     You  come  to   the  wind-swept  graves  on  Ply- 


I  So  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

mouth  hillside.  You  come  to  the  discolored  soil  and 
buried  ashes  where  stood  the  stakes  at  Smithfield. 
You  come  to  the  cell  of  Luther  and  to  Wiclif's  closet 
at  Lutterworth.  You  follow  back  the  ascending  line, 
from  one  generation  to  another,  from  one  witness  or 
martyr  to  another,  till  you  find  that  not  an  age  of 
Christian  history  has  passed  since  Paul  said  :  "  I  fill 
up  something  of  what  is  behind  of  the  afflictions  of 
Christ,"  which  has  not  done  something  to  make  lighter 
your  burden,  and  to  leave  you  in  debt  to  its  faithful- 
ness and  self-sacrifice. 

Yes !  we  are  in  debt !  The  benefits  we  have  are 
benefits  for  which  we  have  not  paid.  We  enjoy  what 
we  do  because  other  members  of  the  same  body  have 
suffered  for  us.  It  is  because  some  were  found  willing 
to  fill  up  so  much  of  "  that  which  was  behind  of  the 
afflictions  of  Christ"  that  we  walk  under  a  load  so 
comparatively  light. 

But  I  remark,  as  a  concluding  suggestion  of  our 
theme,  that  the  same  conception  of  life  which  this 
view  of  the  unity  of  Christ  and  His  people  opened  to 
Paul,  and  to  others  who  have  gone  before  us,  is  open 
also  to  ourselves.  Our  greatest  privilege  in  living  is 
in  "  filling  up  that  which  is  behind  of  the  afflictions  of 
Christ."  If  we  would  but  appreciate  aright  our  calling 
and  opportunity,  we  should  rejoice  most  of  all,  that  we 
can  live  "for  His  body's  sake,  which  is  the  Church." 
For  the  things  "which  are  behind"  are  yet  many. 
Not  yet, —  notwithstanding  all  that  He  has  undergone 
in  the  person  of  His  members, —  not  yet  are  His  afflic- 
tions full.  The  Church  has  trials  and  conflicts  still  to 
undergo.  The  individual  membership  numbers  many 
a  son  and  daughter  of  trouble  still. 


SERMONS.  l8l 

On  how  many  does  sorrow  press  !  How  many  does 
penury  grip  with  cruel  hand  !  What  darkness  remains 
to  be  hghtened ;  what  woe  to  be  comforted ;  what 
struggles  to  be  aided  ;  what  wanderings  to  be  restored  ! 
And  we  can  alleviate  some  of  that  sorrow.  Some  of 
that  burden  we  can  bear.  Our  efforts  and  self  denials 
and,  if  it  need  be,  our  afflictions  and  pains,  can  do  at 
least  a  little  of  it.  This  is  a  vicarious  world.  Its  cen- 
tral fact  is  Calvary,  and  the  great  law  of  relationship 
in  it,  is  relationship  through  sacrifice. 

Not,  indeed,  that  we  are,  in  any  ascetic  spirit,  will- 
fully to  invent  and  impose  sufferings  upon  ourselves. 
Not  that  suffering  is  an  object  in  itself.  But  he  that 
will  put  his  shoulder  under  the  world's  great  load, — 
he  that  will,  in  any  department  of  labor  for  his  kind, 
fill  up  something  of  what  is  yet  behind, —  will  do  it, 
must  do  it,  at  the  cost  of  many  a  pain.  This  world 
was  not  lifted  to  the  possibility  of  salvation  without 
the  agony  and  death  of  the  Son  of  God  ;  and  it  cannot 
be  brought  to  the  experience  of  salvation  realized, 
without  the  toils  and  anguish  of  many  a  saint.  Re- 
demption was  begotten  in  sacrifice,  and  it  is  perfected 
only  through  struggle  and  pain.  But  every  true 
Christian  effort, —  yea,  every  real  Christian  tear,^ — • 
does  something  to  bring  that  perfection  nearer. 

What  a  thought  of  cheer  for  many  a  humble  un- 
noticed soul  there  is  in  this  fact !  How  much  wider 
was  the  reach  of  that  soul's  sufferings  than  it  knew  ! 
You  thought,  dear  friend,  perhaps  that  your  agonized 
prayer  did  nothing.  You  thought  your  quiet  Chris- 
tian patience  in  bearing  your  trouble  had  no  result. 
When  you  endured  sickness  with  submission,  or  be- 
reavement with  quietude,  or  watched  with  Christlike 


lS2  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

solicitude  over  a  wayward  son,  or  a  sinning  husband, 
you  had  no  thought  your  work  reached  beyond  your- 
self, and  perhaps  the  immediate  object  of  your  effort. 
Ah  !  but  it  did  !  The  fellowship  of  that  body  in  which 
Christ's  members  are  joined  makes  it  impossible  for 
one  to  stand  alone.  Your  solitary,  hidden  grief  is  not 
unknown  to  Him  whose  very  member  you  are.  Some- 
thing of  what  remains  for  Him  to  fill  up,  you  have 
been  permitted  to  bear.  You  have  a  part  in  the  great 
fulfillment  !  Do  not  think  you  are  useless  or  alone. 
The  solidarity  of  the  Christian  union  secures  some- 
thing of  benefit  to  the  whole  from  the  conflict  or  the 
suffering  of  each. 

This  presents  to  us  a  conception  of  life  we  shall  do 
well  to  ponder.  Oh  !  not  for  Paul  only,  not  for  the 
fathers  dead,  was  this  conception  set  before  us  in  the 
Great  Exemplar,  Jesus  of  Bethlehem  and  Golgotha. 
That  example  was  set  that  all  might  imitate.  That 
life  was  lived  that  it  might  forever  inspire. 

My  friends,  the  true  problem  of  life  to  a  Christian 
man  is  not  how  to  get  the  most  of  ease  and  the  least 
of  pain  this  world  can  give.  The  great  object  of  ex- 
istence is  not  to  surround  oneself  with  the  pleasures 
of  life  and  to  ward  off  from  us  its  pains.  No  !  the 
true  object,  the  Christlike  object,  is  to  lift  the  burden 
from  others'  shoulders  by  taking  it  on  our  own,  to 
alleviate  others'  pains  by  bearing  them  ourselves. 
This  is  to  do  as  Paul  did,  and  as  He  did  whose  example 
inspired  Paul.  This  is  to  fill  up  something  of  what  is 
behind  of  the  afflictions  of  Christ. 

And  it  seems  to  me,  my  hearers,  that  now  is  a  time 
when  it  is  peculiarly  fit  that  such  a  conception  of  the 
object  of  life  should  be  presented  and  thoughtfully 


SERMONS.  183 

considered.  Wealth  increases  among  us.  Life  is  tak- 
ing on  yearly  more  luxurious  habits.  We  are  sur- 
rounding ourselves  more  and  more  with  appliances  of 
ease,  and  studying  with  increasing  solicitude  how  to 
make  refined  and  beautiful  our  lot.  Meanwhile  around 
us  sisfhs  the  burdened  world.  Meanwhile  hands  are 
held  out  to  us  from  every  side.  There  are  mourners 
to  be  comforted.  There  are  ignorant  to  be  taught. 
There  are  poor  to  be  clothed.  There  are  hungry  to  be 
fed.  Meanwhile,  too,  the  Church  is  maintaining  her 
struggle  with  the  world.  She  needs  the  effort  of  every 
member ;  not  the  cold  partial  allegiance,  but  the  full, 
consecrated  endeavor  of  every  one  who  is  reckoned  of 
her  fold.  For  vast  and  arduous  is  the  work  yet  to  be 
done.  The  afflictions  of  Christ  are  not  yet  full.  Par- 
takers in  His  sufferings  are  needed  still. 

O  my  brothers ;  O  my  sisters  :  shall  we  accept 
the  opportunity  ?  Is  there  anything  in  us  to  answer 
to  the  call  ?  That  which  is  yet  "  behind  "  is  to  be  sup- 
plied. By  the  struggles  of  some  it  is  surely  to  be 
filled !  Who  shall  they  be  .-•  Who  of  this  congrega- 
tion will  make  it  henceforth  the  purpose  of  his  life  to 
add  something  to  that  sum  which  at  last  shall  be 
accounted  complete  ? 


184     REVEREND  GEORGE  LEON  WAI.KICK,  I)  I). 


XI. 
THE  CHRISTIAN  CONSCIOUSNESS.* 

LUKE   XII  :    SJ. 
'■'■  And  why  even  of  yo2irselves  judge  ye  not  what  is  right  ?^' 

It  is  a  very  interesting  circumstance  connected  with 
this  appeal  of  Christ  to  the  capacity  of  right  judgment 
in  His  hearers  that  it  was  not  addressed  to  His 
acknowledged  disciples.  Our  Saviour  had  been  saying 
some  exceedingly  important  and  even  mysterious 
things,  apparently  in  a  mixed  audience  of  His  own 
followers  and  of  others.  He  had  spoken  of  the  provi- 
dential care  of  God  as  shown  in  His  provision  for  the 
ravens,  His  clothing  of  the  lilies,  and  of  His  greater 
care  of  men.  And  from  that  point  of  instruction  He 
had  proceeded,  after  His  customary  manner,  to  rise  to 
the  teaching  of  higher  and  more  occult  truths  concern- 
ing the  nature  and  near  approach  of  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,  and  the  duty  of  constant  readiness  for  the 
coming  of  the  Son  of  Man. 

Peter  seems  to  have  been  a  little  doubtful  as  to  just 
how  far  this  discourse  was  intended  for  the  public 
generally,  or  only  for  him  and  his  few  associates.  And 
he  asked  the  point-blank  question,  "  Lord,  speakest 
thou  this  parable  unto   us,  or  even  unto  all.-*"     The 


*  Written  in  December,  1891. 


SERMONS.  185 

Lord  answered,  "  Who  then  is  the  faithful  and  wise 
steward,  whom  his  Lord  shall  set  over  his  household, 
to  give  them  their  portion  of  food  in  due  season  ?  " 
His  reply  is,  in  effect  :  "  I  address  whoever  has  the 
ear  to  hear.  I  am  stating  facts  and  principles  of  uni- 
versal application  and  interest.  Any  man  who  dis- 
cerns their  truthfulness,  and  especially  who  acts  on 
their  truthfulness,  is  My  accepted  hearer.  What  I  say 
is  reasonable  as  well  as  right,  and  blessed  is  the  man 
who  hears  and  obeys."  But  that  there  might  be  left  no 
doubt  in  Peter's  mind,  or  in  anybody's  mind,  as  to  the 
broad  and  inclusive  character  of  His  address  He  turned 
distinctly  to  the  "multitude" — the  "people"  who 
were  looking  on  with  uncommitted,  and  some  of  them, 
probably,  inimical  curiosity  —  and  said  to  them,  in 
effect,  Why  do  you  not  exercise  your  own  reason 
and  instructed  faculties  about  the  truth  or  falsity  of 
what  I  have  been  telling  you  ? 

"  When  ye  see  a  cloud  rising  in  the  west,  straightway  ye  say, 
There  cometh  a  shower ;  and  so  it  cometh  to  pass.  And  when 
ye  see  a  south  wind  blowing,  ye  say,  There  will  be  a  scorching 
heat ;  and  it  cometh  to  pass.  Ye  hypocrites,  ye  know  how  to 
interpret  the  face  of  the  earth  and  the  heaven ;  but  how  is  it 
that  ye  know  not  how  to  interpret  this  time  ?  And  why  even  of 
yourselves  judge  ye  not  what  is  right  ?  " 

Thus  by  the  strongest  of  all  possible  forms  of  affir- 
mation,—  a  direct  reproachful  challenge  for  not  using 
faculties  they  had  and  could  employ,  —  Christ  affirmed 
an  existent  power  in  the  minds  of  even  His  opponents 
and  enemies  to  judge  concerning  the  things  of  which 
He  told  them.  He  appealed  to  faculties  divinely  im- 
planted in  them  to  have  some  opinion  about  the  truth- 
fulness of  His  words.     As  there  were  sisrns  in  nature 


l86  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEOX    WAEKEK,    D.D. 

which  the  eye  could  recognize,  and  which  answered  to 
the  truth  of  things  in  the  physical  realm,  so  there  were 
signs  in  the  spiritual  world  which  might  be  discerned 
by  one  intent  and  willing  to  discern  them,  which  an- 
swered also  to  the  truth  of  things  in  matters  of  that 
domain.  A  man  ought  to  recognize  such  signs.  A 
man  could  recognize  such  signs.  A  man  was  to  blame 
for  not  recognizing  such  signs.  Even  an  opponent 
might  be  appealed  to  with  the  reproachful  and  con- 
demnatory inquiry,  —  at  once  a  testimony  to  his  capa- 
city of  in  some  measure  judging  of  the  truth  in  religious 
things,  and  of  his  neglect  to  employ  the  capacity  which 
he  had,  —  "  Why  even  of  yourselves  judge  ye  not  what 
is  right  .'* " 

Now  it  seems  to  me,  as  I  said  at  the  outset,  that  this 
utterance  of  Christ,  addressed  confessedly  to  hearers 
not  His  disciples,  is  an  extraordinarily  interesting  one. 
It  has  a  very  direct  bearing  upon  a  question  a  good 
deal  agitated  in  theological  circles  to-day.  It  casts  an 
illuminating  gleam  upon  one  of  the  great  party  watch- 
words of  our  time.  And  the  brief  examination  of  the 
Master's  saying  "to  the  multitude "  which  we  have 
now  made  may,  I  hope,  have  prepared  the  way  for 
some  sober  and  reasonable  consideration  of  what  that 
watchword  suggests. 

The  party  shibboleth  of  which  I  speak  is  what  is 
called  the  "  Christian  consciousness."  It  is  used  with 
about  equal  frequency  in  both  camps  of  current  theo- 
logical partisanship,  progressive  and  conservative  alike. 
But  it  is  used,  of  course,  with  different  accent.  With 
the  one  it  is  a  word  of  honor;  with  the  other  it  is  a 
word  of  reproach.  When  a  writer  or  preacher,  who  is 
understood  to  be  of  what  is  called  the  more  advanced 


SERMONS.  1S7 

school  of  theology  among  us,  makes  reference  to 
"  Christian  consciousness  "  as  one  of  the  sources  of 
light  on  religious  truth,  he  is  at  once,  by  some  of  his 
more  conservative  brethren,  accused  of  elevating  human 
authority  to  a  co-ordinate  place  with  divine  revelation, 
or  a  place  even  of  superiority  to  it.  When,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  phrase  "  Christian  consciousness"  is 
referred  to  in  the  utterances  of  our  more  conservative 
divines  it  is  generally  in  terms  which  lead  their  oppo- 
nents to  allege  the  disparagement  or  denial  of  some  of 
the  plainest  of  historic  facts,  and  some  of  the  most 
obvious  of  the  apparently  divinely  intended  operations 
of  the  human  intellect. 

Now,  is  there  any  necessity  of  this  warfare  among 
brethren  .''  Is  there  any  unavoidable  need  of  their  mis- 
understanding and  misinterpreting  one  another  ?  Is 
there  not  some  common,  fair,  middle-ground  on  which 
they  can  stand  and  use  the  phrase  in  question, — which 
seems  to  have  gotten  a  pretty  secure  place  in  modern 
religious  literature,  —  in  a  mutually  understood  and 
even  mutually  acceptable  significance  ?  The  question 
seems  to  me  important  enough  for  me  to  do  what  I 
seldom  do  in  this  pulpit,  — that  is,  to  call  your  atten- 
tion to  a  particular  phase  of  current  discussion  in  the 
theological  world. 

Now  it  may,  I  think,  be  frankly  admitted  by  those 
who  use  this  term  most  frequently  that  the  term  itself, 
"  Christian  consciousness,"  is  a  very  ambiguous  one. 
Strictly  speaking,  what  is  there  which  can  possibly  be 
more  individual  and  incommunicable  than  conscious- 
ness .''  I  am  conscious  of  being  hot  or  cold.  I  am 
conscious  of  being  right  or  wrong.  But  my  conscious- 
ness of  these  things  is  not  your  consciousness.     Yours 


1 88  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WAEKER,    D.D. 

is  not  mine.  Consciousness  is  a  thing  not  to  be 
confused,  intermingled,  generalized.  When,  therefore, 
the  word  consciousness  is  employed,  as  in  the  phrase 
"Christian  consciousness,"  to  signify  something  be- 
side individual  experience ;  something  belonging  rather 
to  collective  convictions ;  an  only  moderately  strict 
constructionist  in  the  use  of  language  is  bound  to 
admit  that  the  phrase  is  ambiguous,  if  not  self-con- 
tradictory. But  so  are  a  score  of  phrases  we  use  in 
religion  and  in  common  life  ambiguous.  Half  the 
controversies  which  have  ever  risen  in  mental  phi- 
losophy and  theology  are  the  result  of  the  ambiguity 
of  the  terms  employed.  Even  in  politics  and  general 
affairs  the  differences  of  men  largely  result  from  the 
diversity  of  interpretation  put  on  the  words  they  alike 
use.  Free-trader  or  protectionist,  for  example  —  how 
vague  and  ambiguous  the  use  of  these  terms  in  politi- 
cal affairs  is  !  Take  a  high  protectionist  newspaper, 
and  it  calls  every  man  a  free-trader,  however  he  may 
advocate  a  tariff  for  revenue,  unless  he  advocates  one 
also  for  the  guardianship  of  what  are  called  "  infant 
industries."  Take  an  ultra  free-trade  newspaper,  and 
it  calls  every  man  a  protectionist,  notwithstanding  he 
may  ever  so  carefully  discriminate  between  a  tariff  for 
necessary  public  expenses,  and  a  tariff  for  support  of 
favored  manufactures.  And  then  they  go  on  batting 
away  at  each  other,  largely  on  a  mere  matter  of  ambi- 
guity of  terms.  Now  I  hold  no  commission  to  defend 
the  correctness  of  this  phrase  "  Christian  conscious- 
ness." I  certainly  did  not  invent  it;  nor  do  I  in  gen- 
eral belong  to  the  school  or  party  in  recent  religious 
thinking  which  did  invent  it  and  by  which  it  is  chiefly 
employed.      Hut  I  hope  I  may  be  fair  enough  to  try  to 


SERMONS.  1 89 

understand  what  its  users  mean  by  it,  and  not,  — 
either  because  of  the  ambiguity  of  the  word  itself,  or 
because  of  dissent  from  any  of  the  views  of  those  who 
mainly  employ  it, — insist  that  it  must  mean  something 
antagonistic  to  what  is  true. 

What  then, — the  ambiguity  of  the  phrase  being 
frankly  admitted, — do  those  who  .speak  of  Christian 
consciousness  really  understand  by  the  term  .''  So  far 
as  I  am  able  to  judge  from  a  considerable  reading  of 
the  religious  literature  in  which  the  phrase  is  employed, 
it  means  that  common  concensus  or  conviction  which, 
under  the  protracted  operation  of  divine  influences 
upon  the  minds  of  men,  grows  up  in  the  general  body 
of  believers.  It  is  a  conviction  which  may  relate  to 
things  more  definitely  or  less  definitely  revealed  in 
Scripture,  but  respecting  which,  for  one  reason  or  an- 
other, such  a  general  conviction  and  agreement  is 
arrived  at  that  it  may  almost  be  called  a  common  con- 
sciousness of  its  reality. 

Now  who  does  not  see  that  in  point  of  fact,  —  laying 
aside  any  question  of  infelicity  in  the  term  by  which 
such  a  common  conviction  is  called,  —  that  such  a  com- 
mon conviction  does  exist  in  reference  to  many  re- 
ligious truths,  and  exist  in  such  a  degree  and  measure 
as  to  be  spoken  of  as  something  distinct  from  the 
materials  upon  which  it  is  founded  .'*  For  example, 
there  is  a  common  conviction  among  religious  people 
that  God  is  a  loving  being.  It  may  be  said  to  be  an 
affirmation  of  "  Christian  consciousness  "  that  He  is 
so. '  And  when  you  say  that  Christian  consciousness 
declares  the  loving  character  of  God,  you  do  not  stop 
to  analyze  the  growth  of  that  consciousness.  You  do 
not    say   that   it  is   built   up   from  this  or   that    text 


jcjo  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

of  Scripture;  from  this  or  that  recorded  act  of  tlie 
divine  behavior.  You  appeal  to  it  as  something  which 
—  grown  howe\'er  it  may  have  done  —  now  stands  a 
substantial  commonly  accepted  conviction,  real  almost 
as  one's  consciousness  of  life,  that  God  is  love. 

But  the  growth,  in  this  sense,  of  a  common  Chris- 
tian conviction  or  consciousness  is  not  merely  real  and 
powerful  in  relation  to  things  which  are  clearly  revealed 
in  Scripture ;  it  is  to  be  discerned  also  in  things 
wherein  the  utterances  of  Scripture  are  either  not  clear 
or  are  not  so  clear  that  they  have  not  in  point  of  fact 
been  capable  of  various  interpretations  by  Christian 
men.  A  most  interesting  example  of  the  working  of 
this  principle  is  just  now  held  up  to  our  notice  in  the 
experience  of  our  brethren  of  the  Presbyterian  Church 
in  this  country.  Our  friends  of  that  fellowship  are 
engaged  in  a  struggle  for  the  revision  of  their  creed. 
Not  to  mention  other  points  in  which  they  are  dis- 
quieted about  it  —  and  there  are  several — one  import- 
ant point  in  it  which  gives  them  uneasiness  is  the 
utterance  of  the  third  section  of  the  tenth  chapter  of 
their  Confession  of  Faith,  which  reads  thus :  "  Elect 
infants,  dying  in  infancy,  are  regenerated  and  saved  by 
Christ."  The  Confession  does  not  say  what  becomes 
of  non-elect  infants,  and  does  not  even  in  positive 
terms  say  that  there  are  any.  But  language  has  no 
significance  if  those  words  do  not  imply  that  there  are 
such  non-elect  infants;  nor  can  we  doubt  that  the  the- 
ological system  generally  formulated  in  that  document 
and  generally  held  by  its  framers  and  by  their  prede- 
cessors, implies  that  there  may  be  a  great  many.  Why, 
then,  is  the  Presbyterian  body  trying  to  get  rid  of  that 
phrase  to-day  ?     Why  is  it  just  as  certain  ultimately  to 


SERMONS. 


191 


be  got  rid  of,  by  an  expurgation  from  the  creed  or  by 
a  supersedure  of  the  old  creed  by  a  new  confession,  as 
that  to-morrow  morning's  sun  will  rise  ? 

Can  anybody  pretend  that  the  change  in  that  body 
by  which  that  obnoxious  phrase  and  implication  will 
sooner  or  later  disappear,  —  as  it  has  disappeared  from 
the  later  doctrinal  statements  of  our  own  body  which 
formerly  held  the  same  creed,  —  is  simply  and  purely 
owing  to  a  correcter  exegetical  interpretation  gf  the 
passages  of  Scripture  which  bear  on  the  matter  of 
God's  dealings  with  infants  ?  It  is  due  to  no  such 
thing.  The  conviction  which  demands  such  an  altera- 
tion in  the  creed  did  not  arise  in  any  such  way.  It 
arose  because  of  a  growing  assurance  in  the  heart  and 
mind  of  the  Church  that  the  love  and  pity  of  God  as 
revealed  generally  in  His  Word  and  providence,  and 
grace,  did  not  justify  any  such  interpretation  of 
Scripture  as  requires  such  a  declaration  concerning 
elect-infants,  or  allows  such  an  implication  concerning 
non-elect  ones.  The  revolution  has  been  a  silent 
growth  in  Christian  consciousness  of  the  significance 
of  God's  love  and  grace  to  men.  It  was  not  born  in 
the  study  of  the  grammarian,  but  by  the  cradle-side  and 
grave-side  of  infancy,  where  consecrated  paternal  and 
maternal  hearts,  fathoming  a  little  of  the  love  of  God 
by  the  limited  plummet  line  of  their  own  love,  revolted 
from  an  interpretation  of  the  ways  of  God  with  child- 
hood which  did  violence  to  all  else  that  they  knew  of 
Him,  and  which  crowded  Scripture  to  the  wall  in  sup- 
port of  a  statement  against  which  every  instinct  of  the 
human  heart  and  every  known  attribute  of  the  divine 
protest. 

A    somewhat    similar  illustration    of   the   grrowth  of 


ip2  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

ofeneral  convictions,  —  what  some  of  our  friends  call  of 
a  Christian  consciousness,  —  may  be  found  in  another 
quarter.  It  is  not  so  very  long  ago  since  advocates  of 
missionary  enterprise  based  their  plea  almost  exclu- 
sively on  the  hopeless  condition  of  men  outside  the 
limits  of  Christian  enlightenment  and  civilization. 
When  the  American  Board  was  formed  eighty-two 
years  ago  it  was  not  felt  to  be  an  extravagant  or  abhor- 
rent statement  to  represent  the  whole  heathen  world 
as  flowing  in  an  unbroken  cataract  of  irremediable 
doom  into  the  abyss  of  eternal  despair.  Such  repre- 
sentations, scarcely  qualified  by  possible  exceptions, 
were  common  in  pulpits  and  on  missionary  platforms. 
Such  representations  are  not  made,  or  very  seldom 
made,  now.  Why  are  they  not  ?  For  this  reason 
among  others.  We  all  know  that  Christian  men  and 
women  have  sought  relief  from  the  terrible  idea  of  the 
hopeless  loss  of  all  the  heathen  world,  in  some  way 
compatible  with  the  teachings  of  the  word  of  God. 
One  of  these  ways,  —  and  a  way  elaborately  presented 
in  the  annual  sermon  preached  before  the  Board  at 
Detroit  in  1 886, —  is  in  a  hoped-for  greater  inclusiveness 
of  the  saving  grace  of  God  outside  the  reach  of  the 
Gospel,  through  the  light  of  nature  and  the  operations 
of  the  Spirit,  than  we  have  always  supposed  ;  and  an- 
other is  by  the  idea,  advocated  in  some  quarters,  of  an 
opportunity  in  another  life  of  an  offer  of  salvation  for 
those  who  never  heard  of  Christ  here. 

Now  without  at  all  entering  here  into  any  argument, 
as  I  have  on  some  other  occasions  done,  as  to  the  rela- 
tive scripturalness  of  these  two  different  ways  in  which 
the  difficulty  is  attempted  to  be  solved,  my  present 
point  of  inquiry  is,  why  was   resort   had  to  either  of 


SER^IOXS. 


193 


these  two  views?  Why  did  not  people  just  sit 
down  quietly  under  the  conception,  so  long  entertained, 
of  the  utter  and  irremediable  loss  of  everybody  outside 
the  limits  of  historical  Christianity  ?  Was  it  because 
of  the  compellant  power  of  an  exacter  exegesis  ?  Did 
more  hopeful  views  of  the  reach  of  God's  grace  grow 
out,  primarily,  of  a  correcter  use  of  the  grammar  and 
the  lexicon  of  the  Greek  and  Hebrew  Scriptures  ? 
Not  at  all.  They  grew  out  of  a  softening  of  the  minds 
and  hearts  of  men  under  the  influence  of  the  Gospel, 
which  led  them  to  ask,  "  Is  there  not  some  way  com- 
patible with  the  Scriptures  which  we  have  read  so 
long  without  discerning  it,  whereby  the  love  of  God  for 
sinful  men  and  the  adequacy  of  His  grace  for  their 
help  shall  not  be  so  frustrated  and  denied  as  it  is  in 
these  views  which  we  have  entertained,  without  ques- 
tioning, so  great  a  while  ?  The  inquiry  started  in  the 
mind  enlightened  by  Christian  truth  and  warmed  by 
Christian  love.  The  question  was  brought  to  the  test 
of  consonancy  with  the  general  spirit  of  the  Gospel. 
It  was  tried  by  the  Christian  consciousness,  if  one 
chooses  to  call  it  so  ;  and  then  Scripture  was  interro- 
gated more  carefully  for  an  answer.  Not  in  grammar 
and  lexicography  first,  but  in  love  and  pity  taught  by 
Christ,  did  the  impelling  power  lie  which  put  men  on 
interrogating  anew  the  revealed  Word,  to  see  what  the 
truth  on  this  matter  is. 

But  the  contrariety  of  these  two  answers,  which  I 
have  said  have  been  given  to  the  same  question,  con- 
ducts me  to  another  suggestion  respecting  this  matter 
of  Christian  consciousness,  so  called,  very  important 
to  be  considered.  Christian  consciousness, — by 
which    I    mean,    as    has    been    explained,  the  general 


194  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEOX    WALKER,    D.D. 

consent  of  men  under  the  light  of  the  Gospel,  —  can- 
not any  way  supersede  Scripture;  perhaps  cannot 
always  successfully  arbitrate  between  obscure  or 
doubtful  revelations  of  Scripture.  Here,  if  anywhere, 
is  the  danger  which  lies  in  admitting  the  enlightened 
convictions  of  matured  piety  to  any  place  in  the  con- 
sideration and  determination  of  religious  truth.  There 
is  danger,  constituted  as  men  are,  that  the  power 
which,  as  I  have  tried  to  show,  is  divinely  lodged  in 
them  to  judge  of  religious  things,  and  which  experience 
in  religious  things  certainly  tends  to  make  more  per- 
fect in  its  exercise,  should  be  abused.  There  is  peril 
lest  it  should  arrogate  to  itself  functions  above  its 
proper  place,  and  not  merely  judge  where  Scripture  is 
silent  or  obscure,  but  decide  where  Scripture  speaks, 
and  sometimes  decide  against  what  Scripture  says. 
This  danger  is  real.  But  what  then  ?  Shall  one 
forego  altogether  the  exercise  of  a  power  because  it 
can  be  abused  ?  What  gift  of  God  is  there  which 
cannot  be  perverted  to  evil  ?  Because  a  grain  of 
calomel  sometimes  does  a  man  good,  are  we  to  argue 
that  half  a  pound  of  it  would  be  better  ?  Or  because 
an  ounce  of  laudanum  will  kill,  shall  we  say  twenty 
drops  of  it  can  in  no  case  be  used  .''  Do  we  need  to  be 
told  that  faith  is  a  saving  grace,  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  some  have  made  an  alleged  faith  to  be  the  shelter 
for  all  unrighteousness  .'' 

Christian  consciousness,  despite  the  infelicity  of  the 
name,  is  something  which  has  a  real  place  in  the  dis- 
cernment of  religious  truth.  The  collective  sentiment 
of  the  minds  of  men  under  the  operations  of  the  Spirit 
of  God  does  not  go  for  nothing.  The  practical  and 
important  question  is.  What  place  has.  it ;  and  within 


SERMOXS. 


195 


what  fixed  boundaries  only,  if  any,  has  it  its  proper 
sphere  ? 

There  should,  I  think,  be  no  real  doubt  on  this 
matter.  This  is  one  of  the  questions  which,  under 
somewhat  different  terminology  indeed,  came  up  in 
the  recent  trial  of  Professor  Briggs  before  the  New 
York  Presbytery.  In  that  trial,  which,  as  you  know, 
resulted  in  a  dismissal  of  the  charges  against  the  Pro- 
fessor,—  though  an  appeal  was  indeed  taken  to  the 
Synod  from  the  dismissal,  —  one  charge  which  had 
been  brought  against  the  Professor  was  that  he  had 
declared  that  there  were  "  three  fountains  of  divine 
authority  [in  religion],  the  Bible,  the  Church,  and  the 
reason";  from  which  declaration  made  by  him  the  in- 
ference was  drawn  by  others  that  these  three  were 
alike  sufficient  and  equal  sources  of  religious  light. 
This  inference  the  Professor  denied.  He  held  that 
while  the  Church  was  one  source  of  religious  authority, 
reason  and  conscience  was  another ;  but  when  the 
Bible  spoke  definitely  on  any  point  its  utterance  was 
decisive.  This  answer  satisfied  the  majority  of  the 
Presbytery  on  this  point,  —  I  am  not  now  speaking  of 
any  other  point  in  what,  is  called  the  Briggs  case,  — 
and  I  think  it  ought  to  satisfy  everybody. 

And,  similarly,  as  to  what  is  meant  in  the  term 
which  I  have  repeatedly  spoken  of  as  an  infelicitous 
one,  "Christian  consciousness."  It  is  idle  to  deny 
that  the  thing  intended  to  be  covered  by  that  phrase 
is  a  real  thing,  and  that  it  has  a  real  place  and  power 
in  the  making  up  of  religious  opinions.  But  when  the 
question  asked  is.  What  place  has  it,  and  w^hat 
power  belongs  to  it  ?  you  come  to  the  spot  where  the 
danger  about  it  first  arises.     You  come  substantially 


in6  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

to  the  place  to  which  Dr.  Briggs  came  when  asked 
what  reason's  function  is  in  religious  matters.  And  I 
think  among  fair-minded  men  the  answer  which  satis- 
fies us  respecting  the  function  of  the  reason  ought  to 
satisfy  us  with  respect  to  the  Christian  consciousness, 
so-called.  It  has  a  place  among  the  sources  of  religious 
conviction.  But,  under  the  necessities  of  the  case,  it 
is  a  subordinate  place.  It  can  speak  corroboratively 
of  the  things  of  which  revelation  distinctly  tells  ;  and 
this  is,  indeed,  its  most  frequent  utterance,  and  men 
have  loved  to  dwell  on  this  phase  of  its  affirmations 
in  all  ages,  as  affording  an  interesting  confirmation  of 
the  truth  of  the  written  Word.  It  can  speak  with  less 
assurance,  certainly,  but  still  with  a  voice  deserv- 
ing attention,  in  the  silences  of  Scripture ;  telling, 
when  revelation  does  not  speak  at  all,  what  seems  to 
be  accordant  with  the  general  trend  of  the  Gospel  on 
any  point  considered.  But  it  cannot  contradict  the 
clearly  revealed  truth  of  God  in  Scripture.  It  has  not 
authority,  and  it  ought  not  to  be  supposed  to  have,  to 
deny  what  inspiration  has  declared.  Consciousness  can 
never  surpass  in  its  prerogative  that  Word  of  truth  by 
whose  aid  it  is  mainly  that  such  a  thing  as  Christian 
consciousness  has  ever  come  to  be  at  all.  If  any  one 
sets  up  this  judge  as  one  of  co-ordinate  and  equal  power 
with  the  authentic  Scriptures  of  divine  truth,  I,  for  one, 
part  company  with  him  at  that  point.  The  divine 
Word  is  the  arbiter  and  final  authority. 

Yet  simply  because  a  man  refers,  even  in  infelici- 
tous terms,  to  Christian  consciousness  as  a  source  of 
Christian  light,  I  do  not  find  reason  for  denouncing 
him  as  a  heretic  or  an  opponent  of  the  Gospel.  The 
thing  he  may  mean,  —  let  us  be  fair,  —  the  thing  he 


SERMONS. 


197 


probably  does  mean,  is  a  real  thing.  In  certain  of  its 
manifestations  we,  and  all  the  most  orthodox  of  our 
progenitors,  have  rejoiced  always.  The  point  to  be 
determined  is,  does  he  hold  the  idea  in  an  exaggerated 
way  incompatible  with  the  authority  which  must  belong 
of  course  supremely  to  any  veritable  "Thus  saith  the 
Lord  "  ?  If  he  does,  why  then  we  can  have  no  fellow- 
ship with  that  error.  Our  roads  must  needs  separate 
at  that  point.  But  up  to  that  point  we  can  go  in  com- 
panionship ;  and  it  is  not  kind  or  Christian  to  accuse 
him  of  going  beyond  that  point  without  clear  evidence. 
The  probabilities  are  that  the  things  he  holds  are  the 
things  you  hold  on  this  matter;  just  as  Dr.  Briggs 
and  his  Presbytery  found  themselves,  on  the  question 
of  the  place  of  reason  in  religion,  nearer  together  than 
some  had  suspected. 

While,  therefore,  I  think  it  is  important,  —  and  now, 
because  of  the  larger  hearing  given  than  sometimes 
before  to  what  Christian  consciousness  says,  especially 
important,  —  to  emphasize  the  supreme  authority  in 
religious  things  of  the  Word  of  God ;  I  still  think  it 
equally  important  not  to  forget  also  the  lessons  which  are 
conveyed  in  such  a  saying  of  Christ's  as  we  have  been 
considering  to-day,  "  Why  even  of  yourselves  judge  ye 
not  what  is  right.''"  Surely  the  instruction  of  the 
Holy  Spirit  promised  to  the  Church  of  God  to  "guide 
into  all  truth  "  has  not  been  eighteen  hundred  years  in 
vain !  Surely  there  ought  to  be  an  agreement  of 
Christian  experience  and  a  consensus  of  Christian 
judgment  on  some  points  as  the  result  of  that  tutelage 
and  guidance.  And  it  is  pleasant  and  impressive  to 
consider,  both  in  our  individual  capacities  and  in  our 
collective  associations,  that  the  nearer  we  come  to  the 


ipS  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

]\Iaster,  and  the  closer  our  fellowship  is  with  Him,  the 
more  likely  it  will  be  that  our  convictions  will  be  true 
and  our  conjectures,  even  in  points  not  clearly  revealed," 
will  be  harmonious  with  the  mind  of  Christ.  It  was 
not  any  mere  man  who  said  it  ;'it  was  the  Master  Him- 
self who  declared,  "  If  any  man  will  do  His  will,  he 
shall  know  of  the  doctrine,  whether  it  be  of  God." 

May  that  good  Spirit  of  light  and  truth  guide  us 
into  all  truth;  keep  us  from  all  error  ;  open  our  hearts 
to  the  reception  of  "every  Scripture  inspired  of  God  "; 
nor  leave  us  insensitive,  either,  to  those  less  visible 
and  unrecorded  suggestions  of  that  "  Spirit  "  which 
"searcheth  all  things,"  the  result  whereof,  on  apostolic 
testimony,  is  that  "he  that  is  spiritual  judgeth  all 
thing-s." 


SERMONS. 


199 


XII. 

FROM  SCROOBY  TO  PLYMOUTH.* 
Psalm  cvii  :  i,  2,  4,  5,  8. 

[As  quoted  from  Governor  Bradford's  History.] 

••  Let  them  therfore  praise  y"  Lord,  because  he  is  good,  &  his 
mercies  endure  for  ever.  Yea,  let  them  \yhich  have  been 
redeemed  of  y*  Lord,  shew  how^  he  hath  delivered  them  from 
y'  hand  of  y"  oppressour.  When  they  wandered  in  y  des- 
erte  willdernes  out  of  y^  way,  and  found  no  citie  to  dwell  in, 
both  hungrie,  &  thirstie,  their  sowle  was  overwhelmed  in 
them.  Let  them  confess  before  y»  Lord  his  loving  kindnes, 
and  his  wonderfull  works  before  y*  sons  of  men." 

This  Sunday  falls  upon  a  memorable  anniversary. 
Two  hundred  and  seventy  years  ago  to-day  some  of 
the  sea-buffeted  voyagers  of  a  little  ship  which  four 
months  and  six  days  before  had  left  the  harbor  of 
Southampton  in  old  England,  set  foot  on  the  shore  of 
the  harbor  of  Plymouth  in  New  England.  Boughs  of 
evergreen  and  running  vines  of  prince's  pine  were  visi- 
ble to  their  eyes,  sick  with  sight  of  Atlantic  waves, 
as  they  are  visible  to  our  eyes  to-day.  f  But  under 
how  different  conditions  of  visibility !  Very  likely  they 
would  not  have  approved  these  decorations  we  see 
about   us  this  morning.     They  would  have  been   re- 


*  Preached  December  21,  1890. 

t  The  church  was  decorated  for  Christmas. 


20O  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

minded  of  experiences  which  gave  them  a  right  to  their 
opinions.  If  altered  conditions  of  Hfe  make  the  thing 
pleasant  to  us,  which  would  have  been  in  their  day  ob- 
noxious to  them,  let  us  remember  it  is  mainly  because 
of  their  sturdy  adherence  to  their  convictions  that  it  is 
safe  for  us  to  indulge  our  tastes. 

I  intend,  in  memory  of  those  good  men  and  women 
of  two  hundred  and  seventy  years  ago,  to  tell  this 
morning,  as  briefly  as  I  can,  the  simple  story  of  what 
brought  them  on  that  December  day  to  the  barren 
shores  of  Plymouth,  and  how  they  fared  on  the  journey 
and  afterward.  I  do  this,  not  for  the  benefit  of  the  elders 
of  this  congregation,  who  presumably  have  the  story 
in  mind,  but  I  remember  that  we  have  a  good  many 
young  people  growing  up  among  us  ;  and  that  young 
people's  time  is  taken  up  with  a  thousand  matters, — 
school,  and  amusements,  and  the  numberless  books  of 
current  literature  and  travel, —  and  so  I  think  it  may 
be  well  on  this  anniversary  day  to  recall  a  little  while 
an  event  which  had  so  much  to  do  with  the  interests 
of  Christ's  kingdom  in  this  Western  world  ;  and  so 
much  also  to  do  with  making  us  what  we  personally 
are  who  are  gathered  here  to-day. 

When  James  the  First  came  to  the  throne  of  Eng- 
land, on  the  death  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  in  1603,  a  good 
many  Christian  people  in  that  country  who  had  been 
oppressed  by  the  legislation  enacted  under  Elizabeth  to 
secure  uniformity  in  the  Established,  that  is  to  say,  the 
Episcopal  Church,  hoped  for  a  while  that  some  relief 
would  be  accorded  to  those  whose  consciences  dis- 
sented from  that  way  of  worship,  and  especially  from 
what  they  regarded  as  the  Papistic  ceremonies  con- 
nected with  it.     James  at    home  in    Scotland  was  a 


SERMONS.  20 1 

Presbyterian ;  so  that  they  thought  that  there  was  a 
fair  Hkelihood  that  dissenters  from  the  Episcopal  way 
would  at  least  be  tolerated.  But  they  were  disap- 
pointed. James  was  a  learned,  conceited,  pragmatic, 
obstinate  man,  who  thought  himself  a  great  theologian, 
and  whose  head  was  turned  by  the  sudden  accession  to 
him  of  kingly  power,  not  over  the  little  and  poor  king- 
dom of  Scotland,  where  he  had  for  a  considerable  time 
more  or  less  comfortably  ruled,  but  over  the  rich  and 
great  kingdom  of  England.  A  request  was  made  to 
him,  on  his  journey  up  from  Edinburgh  to  London, 
approved  by  above  eight  hundred  ministers,  and  pre- 
sented by  a  distinguished  company  of  Puritan  scholars, 
that  a  little  more  liberty  in  methods  of  worship  might 
be  allowed.  They  were  met  only  with  taunts  and  offen- 
sive lecturings  ;  the  king  winding  up  the  conference 
with  the  command  to  "awaie  with  their  snyvelings," 
and  a  declaration  that  he  would  "  make  them  conform 
or  harrie  them  out  of  the  land,  or  worse."  Among 
the  people  against  whom  these  threats  were  uttered 
were  some  of  the  chiefest  men  of  piety  and  learning 
in  the  whole  country.  There  were  masters  of  col- 
leges, ministers  occupying  some  of  the  foremost  pul- 
pits of  the  kingdom,  learned  and  honorable  laymen 
in  various  professions  and  walks  of  business. 

It  is  doubtful  whether,  in  the  consideration  of  these 
more  prominent  dissenters  from  the  requirements  of 
uniformity  in  worship,  any  very  public  attention  was 
turned  to  a  little  company  of  people  up  in  the  north- 
erly part  of  England  near  the  junction  of  the  counties 
of  York,  Nottingham,  and  Lincoln,  who  had  come  to 
adopt  what  we  now  call  the  Congregational  way  of 
church  fellowship  and  worship.     They  lived  in  various 


202  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

little  villages  in  that  region,  but  held  most  of  their 
public  services  in  the  hall  of  an  old  manor-house,  since 
destroyed,  at  the  little  hamlet  of  Scrooby,  about  forty 
miles  west  from  the  seaport  town  of  Boston  in  Lin- 
colnshire. Belonging  to  this  company  were  the  two 
ministers,  Richard  Clyfton  and  John  Robinson.  Wil- 
liam Brewster,  who  was  postmaster  at  Scrooby,  was 
ruling  elder  of  the  church  ;  George  Morton  and  young 
William  Bradford,  afterward  to  be  the  chroniclers  of 
the  enterprise,  and  the  second  of  them  Governor  of  the 
Plymouth  Colony,  were  with  them. 

The  people  had  to  come  to  the  place  of  worship  in 
the  old  and  somewhat  dilapidated  manor-house,  leased 
by  Brewster,  the  postmaster,  from  a  wide  section  of 
country  scattered  around,  where  they  were  entertained 
by  him  "at  his  greate  charge."  But  neither  the  ob- 
scurity of  the  place  nor  the  semi-ofificial  protection  ac- 
corded them  awhile  by  the  postmaster  could  long  hide 
them  from  the  persecution  which  had  been  determined 
on  against  all  Separatists  from  the  Established  Church. 
So,  in  1607,  after  being,  as  their  historian,  Bradford, 
says,  "hunted  &  persecuted  on  every  side,"  and  some 
"  taken  &  clapt  up  in  prison,"  while  others  "  had  their 
houses  besett  &  wacht  night  and  day,"  they  concluded 
to  try  to  get  out  of  the  country  to  Holland.  In  their 
first  attempt  to  do  so  they  were  unsuccessful.  The 
captain  of  the  ship  which  took  them  and  their  goods 
aboard  at  old  Boston  betrayed  them  to  the  authorities, 
who  hurried  them,  as  Bradford  says,  back  to  the  shore, 
and  "  rifled  &  ransaked  them,  searching  them  to  their 
shirts  for  money,  yea  even  y*^  women  furder  then  be- 
came modestie;  and  then  caried  them  back  into  y^ 
towne,  &  made  them  a  spectackle  &  wonder  to  y®  mul- 


SERMONS.  203 

titude."  After  a  month's  imprisonment  most  of  them 
were  dismissed,  but  Brewster,  Bradford,  and  five  oth- 
ers were  confined  some  time  longer. 

Their  second  attempt,  in  the  spring  of  1608,  was 
hardly  better.  The  Dutch  skipper  who  had  been  en- 
gaged to  meet  them  at  a  secluded  point  of  the  coast  to 
take  them  to  Holland  was  late  in  keeping  his  appoint- 
ment, and  when  only  one  large  boat  load  had  been  got 
aboard,  was  alarmed  at  the  appearance  of  officers  on 
the  shore,  and  straightway  set  sail  with  those  he  had, 
leaving  the  distracted  remainder  —  husbands  separated 
from  wives,  children  from  parents,  in  many  cases 
moneyless  and  clothingless  —  on  Grimsby  Beach,  be- 
hind him.  A  better  endeavor  was  made,  however,  in 
August,  and  the  conclusion  of  the  year  1608  saw  the 
broken  families  and  sundered  congregation  for  the 
most  part  reunited  in  Amsterdam.  Here,  as  Bradford 
says,  "they  heard  a  strange  &  uncouth  language,  and 
beheld  y^  differente  maners  &  customes  of  y*"  people, 
with  their  strange  fashons  and  attires  ;  all  so  farre  dif- 
fering from  y*  of  their  plaine  countrie  villages,  .  .  . 
as  it  seemed  they  were  come  into  a  new  world.  But 
these  were  not  y*  things  they  much  looked  on,  or  long 
tooke  up  their  thoughts ;  for  they  had  other  work  in 
hand,  &  another  kind  of  warr  to  wage  &  maintaine. 
For  though  they  saw  faire  &  bewtifuU  cities,  flowing 
with  abundance  of  all  sorts  of  welth  &  riches,  yet  it 
was  not  longe  before  they  saw  the  grime  &  grisly  face 
of  povertie  coming  upon  them  like  an  armed  man,  with 
whom  they  must  bukle  &  incounter,  and  from  whom 
they  could  not  flye." 

Finding  their  situation  at  Amsterdam  for  various 
reasons  undesirable,  they  moved  next  year — 1609  — 


204  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

to  Leyden  ;  where,  in  reply  to  their  request  fov  the 
privilege  of  residence,  they  were  answered  by  the 
burghermasters  that  all  "  honest  folks  "  were  allowed 
to  live,  on  condition  of  submission  to  the  "  laws  and 
ordinances."  Scattered  at  this  time  through  Holland 
were  other  English  congregations.  But  most  of  these 
other  congregations  were  not,  like  themselves.  Sepa- 
ratists or  Independents.  They  were  Presbyterian, 
either  of  the  English  or  Scotch  variety,  and  so  were 
in  ecclesiastical  fellowship  with  the  Holland  Presby- 
terian churches  of  that  order.  Hence  these  Presby- 
terian churches  met  a  very  different  reception  in 
Holland  from  the  authorities  than  did  the  Scrooby 
company  of  Congregationalists.  The  Presbyterians 
were  accorded  places  of  public  worship  ;  their  pastors 
were  generally  admitted  to  the  privileges  of  the 
universities  ;  in  many  instances  aid  was  granted  to 
the  exiled  congregations  from  the  public  treasury. 
The  Separatist  Church,  under  Robinson,  fared  far 
differently.  There  is  no  evidence  that  any  public 
recognition  was  ever  given  them  as  a  body  during  the 
nearly  twelve  years  of  their  residence  there.  They 
worshiped  in  their  own  houses  ;  mainly  in  the  house  of 
John  Robinson,  their  pastor.  It  is  true  that  after  the 
strife  between  the  Calvinistic  party  and  the  Arminian 
party  in  the  Dutch  churches  themselves  had  got  hot 
and  tempestuous,  and  Mr.  Robinson  had  openly  taken 
the  Calvinistic  side  in  a  public  debate,  he  was  tardily 
—  about  six  years  after  the  beginning  of  his  residence 
in  the  city  —  admitted  to  the  privileges  of  the  uni- 
versity ;  and  that  several  years  after  the  main  body  of 
his  Church  had  left  for  America  he  had  the  privilege  of 
being  buried,  at  his  own  charges,  in  St.  Peter's  Church 


SERMONS. 


205 


in  that  city.  But  the  fear  of  offending  King  James 
prevented  any  public  recognition  of  the  Separatist 
Church  by  the  Netherland  authorities,  even  had  they 
been  inclined  otherwise  to  recognize  them,  of  which 
there  is  no  evidence. 

The  sometimes  boasted  toleration  existent  in  Holland 
at  that  time  was  not  the  voluntary  allowance  of  diverse 
opinions  in  religious  matters  which  we  understand  by 
that  word ;  it  was  a  suspension  of  hostilities  between 
sect  and  sect  to  a  certain  extent,  and  on  the  part  of 
the  government  against  any  one  sect  ;  partly  in  a 
canny  view  of  the  economic  advantages  of  such  sus- 
pended hostilities  at  a  time  when  Holland  needed  the 
full  strength  of  all  its  inhabitants  ;  but  mainly  by  the 
pressure  of  a  national  fear  of  Spain,  against  whose 
asserted  and  long  fought-for  supremacy  over  the 
Netherlands  all  parties,  —  Catholics,  Protestants,  and 
sects  of  all  kinds,  —  were  ready  to  combine. 

Here,  at  Leyden,  working  at  "  such  trads  &  imploy- 
ments  as  they  best  could  "  ;  living  peaceably  among 
themselves  ;  growing  old  as  to  their  leaders,  and  seeing 
a  new  generation  rising  up  amid  the  temptations  of  a 
strange  land,  which  never  could  be  a  home,  the 
Scrooby  company  lived  between  eleven  and  twelve 
years.  Slowly  but  strongly  the  conviction  grew  in 
them  that  this  could  not  last.  They  were,  for  the 
most  part,  poor,  hard-worked,  and  hopeless  as  to  the 
future  of  any  prosperity  for  themselves  or  for  the 
cause  they  represented  in  that  land.  So  a  consider- 
able part  of  them  determined  to  emigrate  to  Amer- 
ica,—  that  new,  strange  country  which  was  then 
attracting  the  wondering  interest  of  so  many. 

They  knew  something  of  the  hardships  of  the  under- 


2o6  REVEREND    GKORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

taking.  As  their  historian,  Bradford,  says,  they 
knew  "  they  should  be  liable  to  famine,  and  nakednes, 
&  y^  wante,  in  a  maner,  of  all  things.  .  .  .  And 
also  those  which  should  escape  or  overcome  these 
difficulties,  should  yett  be  in  continuall  danger  of  y" 
salvage  people,  who  are  cruell,  barbarous,  &  moste 
trecherous  .  .  .  not  being  contente  only  to  kill, 
&  take  away  life,  but  delight  to  tormente  men  in  y'' 
most  bloodie  maner  that  may  be  ;  fleaing  some  alive 
with  y*^  shells  of  fishes;  cutting  of  y''  members  &  joynts 
of  others  by  peesmeale  and  broiling  on  y*  coles,  eate  y^ 
collops  of  their  flesh  in  their  sight  while  they  live, 
with  other  cruelties  horrible  to  be  related."  How- 
ever, none  of  these  things  moved  them,  and  the}' 
made  up  their  minds  to  go.  They  offered  to  go  to 
the  Dutch  American  settlements  if  they  could  be 
assured  of  protection,  but  the  Dutch  declined. 
Ultimately  they  made  ari-angements  with  a  company 
called  "  The  Adventurers,"  holding  a  tract  of  land  to 
be  selected  by  the  planters  somewhere  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  mouth  of  the  Hudson. 

In  July,  1620,  therefore,  the  Leyden  congregation 
held  a  fast,  and  had  religious  ceremonies  in  view  of  the 
great  event  which  was  to  witness  the  separation  of  one 
part  from  another  among  them,  and  the  setting  out  on 
the  long  and  perilous  undertaking.  It  was  probably 
in  the  long  summer  evening  of  the  same  day  that  both 
sections  of  the  company  were  towed  down  the  canal  to 
Delfthaven,  fourteen  miles  away,  where  the  Spccchvcll, 
a  little  sixty-ton  pinnace,  was  lying  to  take  them 
across  to  Southampton  in  England.  The  next  morn- 
ing saw  a  fair  wind  pulling  at  the  already  loosened 
SpcedivclV s  sails,  and  on  the  wharf  beside  her  some- 


SERMONS. 


207 


what  over  two  hundred  men,  women,  and  children, 
some  to  go,  and  some  to  stay,  but  all  bound  together 
by  the  experiences  of  exile  in  a  strange  land,  and  of 
faith  in  the  same  way  of  religious  living  for  which  they 
had  left  one  home,  and  were,  most  of  them,  about  to 
seek  another.  They  kissed  each  other,  and  the  pastor 
prayed  with  them,  and  so  tender  was  their  parting  that 
even  the  Dutch  wharf-loungers,  who  could  not  under- 
stand their  speech,  were  moved  to  tears  at  sight  of 
their  pathetic  farewells. 

They  soon,  and  without  special  event,  got  across  to 
Southampton.  Here  was  lying  the  Mayflower,  a  vessel 
of  about  one  and  twenty  tons,  present  mode  of  measure- 
ment,—  not  half  as  large  as  some  of  the  coal  schooners 
which  come  occasionally  to  our  Hartford  wharves, — 
getting  ready  for  the  Atlantic  voyage.  The  crowded 
decks  and  cabins  of  the  little  Specdzvell  were  relieved 
of  the  majority  of  their  passengers.  Ninety  were 
assigned  to  the  Mayflower,  and  thirty  remained  on  the 
smaller  vessel.  But  they  had  difficulties  about  getting 
away.  Thomas  Weston,  the  manager  of  the  "  Advent- 
urers' Company,"  not  himself  a  Pilgrim,  or  even  an 
honest  man,  quarreled  with  them  about  the  terms  of 
their  agreement,  which  he  had  connived  to  have  altered 
without  their  assent,  so  that  they  had  to  pay  the  port 
charges  of  the  vessels,  and  to  do  so  had  to  sell  a  part 
of  their  j^rovisions  to  meet  the  unlooked-for  expense. 
The  money  being  however  at  last  raised,  on  the  15th 
of  August  the  two  vessels  dropped  down  the  tide  at 
Southampton,  and,  putting  out  against  head  winds, 
which  promised  soon  to  be  stormy,  set  sail  for  the 
New  World.  But  four  days  out  the  master  of  the 
Speedzvell  reported  his  little  vessel  to  be  leaking  badly. 


2o8  REVERKXD    GKORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.I). 

So  both  ves-sels  bore  up  and  entered  Dartmouth  harbor. 
Here  ten  days  were  spent  in  discharging  and  relading 
the  Spccdwc/I,  and  in  examining  her  from  stem  to 
stern,  though  no  considerable  occasion  for  the  master's 
allegations  were  found. 

Once  more  the  vessels  started  out  in  company. 
Land's  End  had  been  sunk  out  of  sight  three  hundred 
miles  behind  them,  when  the  Speedwell  again  signaled 
her  consort  that  she  was  in  an  almost  sinking  condi- 
tion. Again  the  disappointed  voyagers  put  about,  and 
this  time  ran  into  Plymouth,  on  the  southwest  corner 
of  Devonshire.  Here  once  more  the  Specdivell  was 
overhauled,  but  though  no  sufficient  cause  of  appre- 
hension was  found,  the  master  and  crew  so  strenuously 
insisted  on  the  vessel's  unseaworthiness  that  it  was 
concluded  to  send  her  back  to  London.  So  her  passen- 
gers were  divided, —  twelve  joining  the  ninety  already 
aboard  the  Mayjioiver,  and  eighteen  giving  up  the 
enterprise.  Bradford  alleges  that  this  complaint  of 
the  SpcedwelTs  unseaworthiness  was  a  "  stratagem  " 
of  the  master  of  the  vessel.  The  ship  was  probably 
somewhat  strained  by  being  over-masted.  But  its 
master  and  crew  had  grown  fearful  over  the  prospect 
of  remaining  the  year,  for  which  their  contract  called, 
across  the  Atlantic.  And  it  is  not  surprising,  also, 
that  the  courage  of  a  few  of  the  emigrants  themselves 
proved  inadequate  to  further  trials. 

However,  a  third  start  was  made, —  this  time  Septem- 
ber 1 6th, —  the  Mayflozver  riding  over  the  waters  alone. 
But  much  time  had  been  lost,  and  the  equinoctial  gales 
had  come.  In  one  of  these  storms  "one  of  the  maine 
beames  in  y^  midd  ships  was  bowed  &  craked,  which 
put  them  in  some  fear  that  y''  shipe  could  not  be  able 


SERMONS. 


209 


to  performe  y*^  vioage."  They  had  to  lie-to  for  clays, 
unable  to  carry  sail.  However,  by  the  aid  of  a  great 
jack-screw,  which  some  good  carpenter  of  the  Leyden 
company  had  put  aboard  for  its  expected  usefulness  in 
the  new  country,  the  big  beam  was  straightened  up 
and  supported  by  braces,  and  with  quieter  seas  the 
vessel  was  put  on  her  devious  course  again.  I  cannot 
pause  to  enlarge  on  the  various  experiences  of  the 
crowded,  weather-beaten  company  of  men,  women,  and 
little  children  in  that  long  and  stormy  passage.  One 
"proud  &  very  profane  yonge  man,  one  of  y*^  sea-men," 
who,  as  Bradford  says,  "  would  allway  be  contemning 
y®  poore  people  in  their  sicknes,  &  cursing  them," 
and  telling  them  "  that  he  hoped  to  help  to  cast  halfe 
of  them  over  board  before  they  came  to  their  jurneys 
end,"  was  himself  struck  with  a  "greeveous  disease" 
and  "  dyed  in  a  desperate  maner,  and  so  was  him  selfe 
ye  first  y'  was  throwne  overbord."  One  of  their  own 
company  also  succumbed  to  the  hardships  of  the  voy- 
age and  was  buried  at  sea.  But  at  last,  on  the  morn- 
ing of  the  sixty-fifth  day  after  their  third  and  last  start 
from  the  English  shore,  they  caught  welcome  sight  of 
land,  but  not  the  land  to  which  they  were  expecting  to 
go.  Instead  of  being  in  the  vicinity  of  Hudson  River, 
they  found  themselves  off  Cape  Cod.  The  captain 
stood  off  to  sea  again,  about  half  a  day,  but  managed 
to  fall  "  amongst  deangerous  shoulds  and  roring  break- 
ers," so  that  they  "  thought  them  selves  hapy  to  gett 
out  of  those  dangers"  and  back  next  day  into  "y* 
Cape-harbor  where  they  ridd  in  saftie."  Here,  then, 
just  inside  the  protecting  finger  of  the  Cape,  the  com- 
ing of  November  21st  found  the  vessel  at  anchor  in 
comparative  safety. 
14 


2IO  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

But  here  was  a  political  dilemma  as  grave,  almost, 
as  the  physical  ones  they  had  before  encountered. 
The  "Adventurers'  Company,"  under  whose  auspices 
they  had  nominally  sailed,  claimed  some  sort  of  right 
under  the  Virginia  patent.  Now,  landing  up  here  to 
the  north  of  latitude  41°,  they  stood  on  no  definite 
grant  whatever,  and  outside  of  all  established  authority. 
Yet  they  were  equal  to  the  emergency.  They  were 
not  law-breakers  or  freebooters  and  did  not  intend  to 
dispense  with  justice  or  rule.  The  adult  male  mem- 
bers of  the  company  were  assembled  into  the  cabin  and 
the  state  of  the  case  explained.  As  a  result  of  the 
conference  the  following  document  was  drawn  up  and 
signed  :  — 

"In  y  name  of  God,  Amen.  We  whose  names  are  under- 
writen,  the  loyall  subjects  of  our  dread  soveraigne  Lord,  King 
James,  by  y*  grace  of  God,  of  Great  Britaine,  Franc,  &  Ireland 
king,  defender  of  y^  faith,  &c.  haveing  undertaken,  for  y  gloria 
of  God,  and  advancemente  of  y"  Christian  faith,  and  honour  of 
our  king  &  countrie,  a  voyage  to  plant  y«  first  colonie  in  y« 
Northerne  parts  of  Virginia,  doe  by  these  presents  solemnly  & 
mutualy  in  y*  presence  of  God,  and  one  of  another,  covenant  & 
combine  our  selves  togeather  into  a  civill  body  politick,  for  our 
better  ordering  &  preservation  &  furtherance  of  y"  ends  afore- 
said ;  and  by  vertue  hearof  to  enacte,  constitute,  and  frame  such 
just  &  equall  lawes,  ordinances,  acts,  constitutions,  &  offices, 
from  time  to  time,  as  shall  be  thought  most  meete  &  convenient 
for  y'  generall  good  of  y"  Colonie,  unto  which  we  promise  all 
due  submission  and  obedience." 

This  document  was  apparently  signed  by  forty-one 
names,  the  first  six  of  which  seem  to  have  been  John 
Carver, —  the  governor  of  the  new  little  commonwealth, 
—  William  Bradford,  Edward  Winslow,  William  Brew- 
ster, Isaac  Allerton,  Myles  Standish,  and  John  Alden. 


SERMONS.  211 

Thus  in  an  hour  the  Pilgrim  company  had  become  a 
government.  But  the  sandy  point  of  Cape  Cod  was 
no  place  for  a  colony.  The  next  thirty  of  the  shorten- 
ing wintry  days  were  employed  by  the  .leaders  of  the 
band  in  exploring  in  the  little  shallop  brought  by  them 
on  the  Mayflozver,  the  Cape  and  the  region  of  the  main 
land  across  the  bay  for  a  proper  place  for  a  settlement. 
The  explorers  met  in  these  expeditions  many  curious 
adventures,  and  encountered  many  hardships.  They 
saw  several  groups  of  Indians,  and  had  an  encounter 
with  one  of  them,  as  the  result  of  which  they  gathered 
up  quite  a  sheaf  of  arrows,  but  fortunately  no  one  was 
killed  on  either  side.  They  discovered  an  Indian 
mound  with  baskets  of  corn  of  different  colors  —  yel- 
low, red,  and  blue  —  a  part  of  which  they  took  and 
conscientiously  paid  for  to  the  owner's  entire  satisfac- 
tion afterward,  which  was  of  inestimable  value  to  them 
the  following  spring  when  they  came  to  plant  their 
crops.  They  found  and  entered  some  Indian  dwellings, 
temporarily  deserted  by  their  owners,  and  described 
the  contents.  William  Bradford,  afterward  the  Gov- 
ernor and  historian,  got  caught  by  the  leg  in  a  deer- 
snare,  but  escaped  without  injury. 

But  I  have  not  time  to  follow  in  detail  the  story  of 
the  three  expeditions  of  the  little  shallop  in  those  short 
and  sometimes  stormy  days  of  late  November  and  the 
greater  part  of  December.  It  must  suffice  to  say  that 
a  suitable  place,  in  their  opinion,  being  at  last  discov- 
ered, on  Monday,  December  21st,  the  shortest  day  of 
the  year,  they  sounded  Plymouth  harbor,  "  and  founde 
it,"  as  Bradford  says,  "  fitt  for  shipping;  and  marched 
into  y^  land,  &  found  diverse  cornfeilds,  &  litle  runing 
brooks,  a  place  (as  they  supposed)  fitt  for  situation  ; 


212  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

at  least  it  was  y*^  best  they  could  find,  and  y*^  season, 
&  their  presente  necessitie,  made  them  glad  to  accepte 
of  it.  So  they  returned  to  their  shipp  againe  with  this 
news  to  y®  rest  of  their  people,  which  did  much  com- 
forte  their  harts."  This  21  st  day  of  December  then, 
the  short  winter-solstice  day  of  the  year,  when  the 
Pilgrims  explored  Plymouth  harbor  and  determined  on 
the  site  of  their  habitation  there,  is  called  the  Landing 
Day,  It  was  not,  however,  till  four  days  later  that 
the  Mayflower  sailed  from  what  is  now  known  as 
Provincetown  to  the  new  harbor ;  while  it  was  not  till 
eight  days  later,  on  December  31st,  that  by  formal 
vote  they  determined  to  make  Plymouth  harbor  their 
home.  Two  days  after  that  they  set  to  work,  as  Brad- 
ford says,  to  "  erecte  y®  first  house  for  comone  use  to 
receive  them  and  their  goods." 

I  cannot  follow  in  further  detail  the  story  of  the 
settlement  of  the  little  colony  on  that  bleak  coast,  in 
the  middle  of  winter,  or  of  the  terrible  mortality  which, 
before  the  following  autumn,  had  exactly  halved  the 
little  company.  With  April's  coming  the  settlement 
of  the  living  by  the  town  brook-side  nearly  equaled 
the  settlement  of  the  dead  hidden  away  on  Cole's  Hill. 
Nor  can  I  trace  the  subsequent  story  of  the  next  few 
years  of  continued  struggle  and  varying  fortunes  in  the 
Plymouth  colony.  No  sadder,  no  prouder,  no  more 
pathetic  or  nobler  story  is  written  anywhere  in  history 
than  the  story  of  the  coming  and  the  early  experiences 
of  the  Leyden  Pilgrims  to  these  inhospitable  shores. 
For  various  reasons, —  mainly  on  account  of  the  rela- 
tive inferiority  of  their  numbers  and  the  comparative 
disadvantageousness  of  their  geographical  situation, — 
the  Plymouth   colony   played  a  comparatively  incon- 


SERMONS. 


213 


spicuous  part  in  later  New  England  history,  when 
measured  by  the  Massachusetts  Bay  colony,  which 
came  nine  or  ten  years  later  and  made  its  central 
settlement  at  Boston.  The  larger  numbers  and  greater 
commercial  advantages  of  this  latter  colony  left  the 
Plymouth  company  in  a  manner  side-tracked  and  out 
of  the  line  of  main  New  England  progress.  But  the 
principles  of  the  Pilgrim  colony  had  nevertheless  a 
curious  victory  over  those  of  the  Bay.  The  Bay  set- 
tlers were  for  the  most  part  Puritans,  not  Separatists ; 
—  that  is,  they  wished  to  purify  the  Episcopal  Church 
in  which  they  had  been  brought  up,  and  did  not  care 
to  separate  from  it.  They  did  not,  most  of  them  at 
least,  intend  to  separate  from  it, —  only  from  some  of 
its  faults, —  when  they  came  over.  But  being  over 
here,  and  coming  in  contact  with  the  leaders  of  the 
Separatist  Plymouth  colony,  who  had  been  nine  or  ten 
years  on  the  ground,  they  adopted  their  principles, 
and  in  the  organization  of  the  Salem  and  Charlestown 
and  Watertown  Churches  accepted  their  example  and 
subscribed  to  what  was  known  as  the  Plymouth  Way. 
This  fixed  the  pattern  for  all  New  England,  practically, 
for  the  next  hundred  years.  A  single  Episcopal 
Church  was,  indeed,  organized  in  Boston  in  1686,  and 
a  few  others  slowly  followed,  here  and  there.  But  the 
current  of  religious  history  was  set  for  all  New  Eng- 
land into  Congregational  channels,  and  that  current 
was  directed  into  those  channels  by  the  Separatist 
fathers  of  Plymouth  colony.  Though  that  colony  as  a 
political  power  waned  and  faded  beside  the  growing 
strength  of  the  Massachusetts,  Connecticut,  and  New 
Haven  colonies,  as  a  religious  power  it  stamped 
its    impress    on    them    all ;    and    the    Congregational 


214  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

Churches  of  New  England  to-day, —  nay  the  forty-six 
hundred  and  eighty-nine  Congregational  Churches  of 
our  whole  land,  from  Plymouth  Rock  to  California's 
Golden  Gate,  as  given  in  our  last  official  returns,  a 
number,  however,  which  every  month  sees  increasing, 
—  stand  a  monument  to  the  principles  brought  over  in 
the  Mayflower  to  Plymouth,  rather  than  to  those  which 
came  in  the  Talbot  to  Salem,  or  the  Arbella  to  Boston. 
The  Scrooby  exiles  and  the  Leyden  patient  suffer- 
ers have  had  their  vindication  at  the  hands  of  impartial 
history.  The  Congregationalist  polity  of  our  whole 
land  is  their  memorial.  Baptized  with  the  blood  of 
Coppin  and  Thacker  and  Penry  and  Greenwood  and 
Barrowe,  its  earliest  martyrs ;  consecrated  by  the  faith 
and  sufferings  of  the  twelve  years  of  Holland  hardship, 
and  lifted  into  all  the  world's  view  by  the  heroism  of 
the  Plymouth  forefathers'  desperate  enterprise  and 
self-sacrificing  sufferings,  it  abides  the  hard-won  trophy 
of  religious  liberty  and  of  the  right  of  the  people  in 
spiritual  things.  Into  that  liberty  we  have  been  born ; 
but  those  who  purchased  it  for  us  did  it  at  how  great 
a  cost.  Shame  on  any  descendant  of  the  Plymouth 
stock  who  forgets  his  father's  sacrifice.  Let  us  who 
have  entered  into  their  labors  estimate  aright  our  debt 
of  gratitude  to  their  memories.  O,  wind-swept  burial- 
hill  of  rocky  Plymouth  by  this  December  sea,  sacredly 
guard  the  hallowed  dust  of  those  to  whom  we  owe  so 
great  a  debt !  O,  living  men  and  women,  youth  and 
maidens,  forget  not  I  pray  you  the  exiles  of  Leyden 
and  the  storm-tossed  voyagers  of  the  Mayfloivcr  who 
did  so  much  to  make  life  to  you  what  it  is  to-day  !  O, 
Son  of  Man,  whom  this  Christmas  season  celebrates, 
makes  us  in  our  time  and  place  as  faithful  to  conscience 


SERMONS. 


215 


and  to  Thee  as  they  were  who,  on  the  bleak  coast  of 
this  wild,  strange  land,  stood  two  hundred  and  seventy 
years  ago,  shivering  and  homeless,  but  true  to  God,  to 
their  convictions,  and  to  the  Christ  who  was  born  for 
our  salvation  in  the  manger  at  Bethlehem. 


2i6  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 


XIII. 

THE  BREADTH,  AND  LENGTH,  AND  DEPTH, 
AND  HEIGHT.* 

Ephesians  III:  17,  18,  19. 

That  ye,  being  rooted  and  grounded  in  love,  7nay  be  able  to  com- 
prehend with  all  saints  what  is  the  breadth,  and  letigth,  and 
depth,  and  height;  and  to  know  the  love  of  Christ  which 
passeth  knowledge. 

The  most  eminent  of  living  theologians  of  New 
England  has  remarked  that  if  Jonathan  Edwards  had 
not  been  the  foremost  of  dogmatic  divines  he  might 
have  been  the  foremost  of  imaginative  poets.  And 
certainly  there  are  in  the  midst  of  Edwards's  argu- 
mentative pages  passages, —  sometimes  of  tender,  al- 
most fanciful  grace,  and  sometimes  of  gloomy  and 
Dantesque  grandeur, —  which  go  far  to  justify  this  es- 
timate of  him.  In  a  similar  way  we  may  speak  of  the 
apostle  Paul.  If  he  had  not  been  the  foremost  of  Bib- 
lical logicians  he  might  have  been, —  nay,  we  may  bet- 
ter say,  he  was, —  the  foremost  of  Biblical  rhapsodists. 
For  the  truth  is  he  was  both.  He  was  at  once  a  great 
reasoner  and  a  great  mystic.  A  large  part  of  his  writ- 
ing is  cast  in  the  moulds  of  a  rigid  argumentation ;  but 
every  little  while  his  fervid  imagination  and  intense 


*  Preached  on  April  29,  1894. 


SERMONS. 


217 


emotion  burst  all  logical  fetters  and  overflow  in  strains 
of  poetry,  and  even  of  fantasy.  He  loses  sight  of  the 
requirements  of  grammatical  correctness.  He  does 
not  pause  to  complete  his  sentences.  He  goes  off  from 
the  track  of  a  half-uttered  thought,  struck  by  the  strong 
impulse  of  a  new  conception  suddenly  rising  upon  him. 
He  takes  you  on  the  stream  of  his  impassioned  feeling 
into  regions  where  words  are  too  inadequate  to  express 
his  idea,  and  stands  himself,  and  leaves  you  to  stand, 
where  he  and  you  can  only  wonder  and  adore. 

A  good  illustration  of  this  trait  is  the  passage  from 
which  I  have  taken  the  text.  This  whole  epistle  to 
the  Ephesians  is  written  in  a  strain  of  unwonted  fervor 
on  Paul's  part.  It  has  a  great  many  illustrations  of 
those  characteristics  of  Paul's  mind  and  manner  of 
which  I  have  spoken.  But  this  passage,  from  the  third 
chapter,  beginning  with  the  fourteenth  verse,  is  a  quite 
conspicuous  example  of  the  kind.  Read  it  again. 
"  For  this  cause  I  bow  my  knees  unto  the  Father  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ ;  of  whom  the  whole  family  in 
heaven  and  earth  is  named  "  —  see  how  the  thought  of 
God's  fatherhood  of  Jesus  Christ  sets  him  off  into  a 
declaration  of  His  universal  fatherhood  in  earth  and 
heaven  alike — "that  He  would  grant  you  according 
to  the  riches  of  His  glory"  —  not,  observe,  the  riches 
of  His  power  or  the  riches  of  His  m  isdom,  but  the  wide, 
sounding,  undefining  measure,  "  the  riches  of  His 
glory"  —  whatever  that  may  mean  ;  "to  be  strength- 
ened with  might  by  His  Spirit  in  the  inner  man  ;  that 
Christ  may  dwell  in  your  hearts  by  faith ;  that  ye, 
being  rooted  "  —  like  a  tree  —  "  and  grounded  "  —  like 
a  building  —  "in  love,  may  be  able  to  comprehend  with 
all  saints  what  is  the  breadth,  and  length,  and  depth, 


2i8  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

and  height,"  —  the  breadth  and  length  and  depth  and 
height  of  what  ?  He  does  not  distinctly  say  what. 
He  leaves  the  clause  unfinished.  He  may  mean,  at 
least  in  part,  what  he  calls  the  divine  "mystery"  un- 
known to  the  sons  of  men  in  other  ages  that  God  in- 
cludes the  Gentiles  in  the  plans  of  grace,  of  which  he 
had  just  been  speaking  in  the  fifth  and  sixth  verses  of 
the  chapter ;  or  he  may  more  probably  merge  the 
thought  of  that  "ray stQvy"  in  the  still  wider  one  of 
which  he  speaks  in  the  ninth  and  tenth  verses,  which 
he  declares  had  from  the  "  beginning  of  the  world  been 
hid  in  God"  ;  a  mystery  of  the  whole  creation's  rela- 
tion to  Jesus  Christ;  a  mystery  which  "principalities 
and  powers  in  heavenly  places  "  were  studying  into, 
and  whose  vast  reaches  of  grace  and  glory  were  being 
illustrated  in  the  history  of  the  ransomed  Church. 
This  is  what  he  hints,  yet  he  does  not  complete  the 
clause ;  but  straightway  moves  on  in  his  prayer  that 
his  Ephesian  friends  might  comprehend  the  length  and 
breadth  and  depth  and  height,  and  "  know  the  love  of 
Christ" — concerning  which  love,  however,  he  imme- 
diately asseverates  that  it  "passeth  knowledge"  ;  that 
is,  if  we  take  the  words  literally,  he  prays  that  they 
may  know  the  unknowable  ;  and  furthermore,  as  if  this 
were  not  hyperbole  enough,  "  that  ye  may  be  filled  "  — 
poor,  ignorant,  sinful  Ephesian  disciples  might  be 
"filled"  —  bold,  nay,  impossible,  though  the  concep- 
tion be  —  "be  filled  with  all  the  fullness  of  God." 

Now,  it  is  very  plain  that  language  like  this  is  not 
to  be  held  to  the  rigid  terms  with  which  you  interpret 
a  sum  in  arithmetic,  or  a  physician's  prescription  in 
medicine.  Great  violence  has  been  done  to  many  pas- 
sages of  Scripture  by  subjecting  them  to  the  hydraulic 


SERMONS. 


219 


pressure  of  mere  logic  and  grammar.  Very  considera- 
ble edifices  of  doctrine  have  been  built  up,  like  inverted 
pyramids,  on  the  small  foundation  of  some  one  or  two 
proof -texts ;  and  these  very  possibly  wrested  from 
proper  connections,  or  occurring  in  the  midst  of  some 
impassioned  and  poetic  bursts  of  prophecy  or  of 
song. 

"In  sin  did  my  mother  conceive  me,"  for  example. 
How  that  fervid,  imaginative  saying  of  humbled  and  re- 
pentant David  has  been  treated  as  a  grave  didactic  state- 
ment of  pre-natal  sinfulness,  in  support  of  the  Augus- 
tinian  view  of  original  depravity!  Augustine's  view 
may  or  may  not  be  true  ;  but  it  is  a  wresting  of  Scrip- 
ture to  quote  David's  prayer  as  a  proof  of  it.  The  wise 
and  right  way  to  deal  with  such  a  passage  as  David's 
contrite  utterance,  or  with  this  magnificent  emotional 
outburst  of  the  apostle  whose  words  we  are  consider- 
ing, is  to  throw  ourselves  into  the  current  of  the  emo- 
tion to  which  they  attempt  to  give  expression  ;  to  yield 
to  the  strong  impulse  which  throbs  in  the  writer's 
speech,  and  let  him  bear  us,  or  rather  let  the  Spirit 
which  speaks  through  him  bear  us,  whithersoever  he 
will. 

If  we  do  so,  we  shall  often  find  our  hearts  mightily 
stirred  within  us  by  the  fervor  of  an  ancient  devotion 
which  kindles  an  answering  emotion  in  our  own  breasts  ; 
and  we  shall  sometimes  be  led  to  even  wider  concep- 
tions of  the  manifold  wisdom  and  grace  of  God  than 
could  possibly  have  been  in  the  mind  of  psalmist, 
prophet,  or  apostle  who  first  spoke  the  wor(Js.  This 
wonderful  saying  of  Paul's,  for  example,  a  small  por- 
tion of  which  is  our  text  to-day,  if  we  give  ourselves 
to  its  leadership,  behold  to  what  reaches  of  apostolic, 


220  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

and  even  more  than  apostolic,  conception  of  God's  gra- 
cious purposes  it  leads  us  on ! 

"That  ye  may  be  able  to  comprehend  the  breadth," 
says  Paul.  The  vision  Paul  had  of  God's  saving  plans 
for  men  was  indeed  a  wide  one.  Not  merely  had  he, 
more  than  any  one  else  of  his  day,  discerned  how  the 
whole  story  of  God's  dealings  with  Israel, —  the  expe- 
riences of  the  patriarchs,  the  legislation  of  Moses,  the 
sacrificial  system  of  the  priesthood,  the  teachings  of 
psalmists  and  prophets, — -  led  up  to  and  was  fulfilled  in 
Christ ;  but  he  discerned  first  of  all  the  apostolic  com- 
pany, and  clearer  than  any  other  of  them  perhaps  ever 
did,  that  God's  plans  comprised  not  Israel  alone,  but 
reached  over  boundaries  of  other  languages  and  races 
also.  The  little  hints  and  suggestions  which  Isaiah 
and  Amos  and  some  others  of  the  old  prophets  and 
singers  caught  of  this  truth  became  in  Paul's  clear  eye 
a  distinct  and  open  vision.  He  saw  it  with  the  dis- 
tinctness of  noonday.  Against  the  advice  and  remon- 
strance of  his  associates  on  the  apostolic  board  he  gave 
himself  to  its  guidance.  He  took  his  life  in  his  hand 
to  promulgate  the  wider  view  of  salvation  for  Gentiles 
also.  The  "other  sheep"  not  of  the  Jewish  fold  he 
made  it  his  mission  to  gather.  But  not  only  so. 
Wrapped  up,  as  it  were,  in  a  divine  contemplation,  he 
saw  not  only  that  all  men  were  concerned  in  the  broad 
manifestations  of  God's  grace  to  the  world,  but  that 
the  thing  was  so  marvelous  as  to  attract  the  attention 
of  higher  intelligences  than  man,  and  that  "  principal- 
ities and  I  powers  in  heavenly  places"  were  wondering 
over  these  manifestations  and  desiring  through  them 
the  better  to  understand  the  "  manifold  wisdom  of 
God."     The  vision  was  indeed  an  entrancing  one.     O 


SERMONS.  22  1 

the  "breadth"!  he  exclaimed.  "That  ye  may  com- 
prehend the  breadth." 

Yet  it  i.s  no  irreverence  to  say  that,  wide  as  Paul's 
view  was,  it  was  but  narrow  compared  with  that  it  is 
our  privilege  to  have.  Other  races  and  continents 
than  Paul  ever  heard  of  we  see  are  subjects  for,  and 
recipients  of,  the  grace  which  he  wondered  over  as  he 
beheld  it  reaching  outside  of  Judaism  to  a  few  Roman 
provinces.  Lands  and  peoples  sunk  out  of  sight  be- 
yond enveloping  seas ;  realms  and  tribes,  of  which  no 
conjecture,  even,  came  to  minds  of  voyagers  or  geog- 
raphers of  old,  were  included,  as  we  now  know,  though 
even  an  apostle  imagined  it  not  then,  in  the  scope 
of  the  Gospel  of  Calvary. 

Moreover,  the  number  of  the  human  family  is  a  con- 
stantly increasing  number.  The  population  of  the 
world  is  computed  to  have  doubled  in  the  last  hundred 
years.  Now,  unless  we  believe  in  the  total  loss  of  all 
these  outlying  and  once  utterly  unknown  races  of  the 
human  family,  we  must  believe  that  He  who  "tasted 
death  for  every  man"  has  had  some  way  of  approach 
to  them  in  their  needs ;  has  had  some  way  of  making 
His  sacrifice  available  for  many,  at  least,  among  them ; 
has  gathered  His  "other  sheep,"  is  gathering  them 
still,  on  broader  fields  than  prophet's  eye  or  apostolic 
vision  ever  looked  upon.  Furthermore,  what  was  that 
universe,  as  Paul  conceived  of  it,  and  as  it  was  alone 
possible  he  could  conceive  of  it,  which  was  interested 
in  the  "  manifold  wisdom  of  God  "  as  illustrated  here  ? 
It  was  the  heavenly  company  surrounding  this  little 
dot  of  earth,  then  thought  central  and  chief  of  all  the 
creations  of  God,  round  which,  for  its  benefit,  the  sun 
revolved,  the  moon  trod  her  nightly  circle,  and  dimmer 


222  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

lamps  twinkled  in  remoter  distances.  Such  a  world 
might  well  have  its  guardian  intelligences ;  angels  and 
ministrants  of  light  might  well  wait  upon  its  Creator, 
and  concern  themselves  about  His  doings  here.  But 
to  us  who  only  just  begin  to  fathom  creation's  vast- 
ness,  who  know  our  world  to  be,  as  it  were,  but  a  spark 
among  the  blazing  suns  and  rolling  systems  of  a  space 
which  every  added  telescopic  power  to  penetrate  shows 
only  to  be  more  populous  and  unfathomable, —  to  us, 
I  say,  what  new  significance  comes  in  the  thought  that 
what  our  Saviour  is  doing  here  will  be  of  interest  to 
other  solar  systems  and  their  multitudinous  revolving 
spheres,  which  may,  each  in  its  own  way,  be  illustrat- 
ing some  mighty  drama  of  moral  government,  unlike, 
indeed,  but  analogous  to  ours,  and  all  destined  some 
time  to  display  in  modes  apostles  never  dreamed,  and 
which  we,  even,  can  only  conjecture  and  surmise,  the 
manifold  wisdom  and  love  of  God.  If,  then,  the  apos- 
tle, how  much  more  we,  have  reason  to  exclaim.  Oh, 
the  breadth !  That  we  may  comprehend  the  breadth 
of  the  grace  of  God,  what  a  prospect  and  endeavor ! 

"And  the  length,"  Paul  loved  to  trace  the  develop- 
ment in  history  of  the  revelation  of  God's  grace.  He 
had,  in  a  high  degree,  what  is  called  the  historic  sense. 
If,  as  some  suppose,  he  wrote  the  epistle  to  the  He- 
brews, we  have  in  that  treatise  an  elaborate  setting 
forth,  by  his  pen,  of  the  long,  slow,  developing  process 
of  the  divine  purposes  in  God's  education  and  redemp- 
tion of  men.  If  he  did  not  write  that  epistle,  we  have, 
nevertheless,  in  many  another  letter  incontestably  his, 
plentiful  indications  of  this  habit  of  his  mind  to  trace 
backward  to  its  beginnings,  and  forward  to  its  end,  the 
long  story  of  Christianity.     Read  the  fifth  chapter  of 


SERMONS.  223 

Romans,  or  the  fifteenth  of  First  Corinthians,  or  the 
fourth  of  Galatians,  and  see  how  accustomed  he  was 
to  follow  the  track  of  unfolding  religious  history  from 
Adam  to  Abraham,  from  Abraham  to  Moses,  from 
Moses  to  Christ,  from  Christ  onward  to  the  resurrec- 
tion and  the  consummation  in  the  kingdom  of  God.  It 
was  a  grand  and  awe-enkindling  sequence  of  events. 
What  a  line  of  august  personal  characters  ;  of  strik- 
ing and  momentous  historical  occurrences ;  of  plain 
and  indicative  divine  interposals,  marked  that  long, 
evolving  drama!  Contemplating  the  persistency  and 
duration  of  that  purpose  which  thus  reached  over  gen- 
erations and  epochs,  hoW  natural  for  him  to  exclaim  in 
admiration  and  wonder :  O  the  length  of  God's  plans ! 

But  here,  again,  the  revelations  of  history  and  the 
discoveries  of  science  have  vastly  enlarged  our  concep- 
tions of  the  application  of  such  a  phrase  as  the  length 
of  the  grace  of  God.  No  absolute  chronology,  meas- 
uring out  the  duration  of  human  life  upon  this  world 
of  ours,  is  deducible  from  the  Bible.  The  Bible  was 
not  written  for  this  purpose.  And  the  attempts  which 
good  men  have  made  to  shut  the  record  of  this  earth's 
story,  or  of  the  story  of  human  life  upon  it,  up  into  the 
more  or  less  definite  period  of  six  thousand  years  can- 
not be  accounted  a  success.  The  revelations  of  geol- 
ogy, and  of  ethnology,  plainly  indicate  durations  of 
time  and  conditions  of  human  life  undescribed,  and  in 
some  cases  unsuggested,  in  the  narrative  of  that  part 
of  the  story  of  this  world  and  its  inhabitants  of  which 
the  Bible  tells.  But  how  about  those  undelineated 
periods  of  human  history  of  which  evidence  remains  to 
us  in  the  relics  of  mound-builders,  cave-dwellers,  com- 
panions of  mastodons,  and  extinct  races  of  animal  life ; 


224  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

pre-occupants,  some  of  them  it  is  believed,  of  northern 
Europe  and  America  before  the  great  glacial  epoch  of 
geologic  history  ?  Take  up  in  the  Smithsonian  Insti- 
tute at  Washington,  or  in  any  of  a  score  of  museums 
in  Europe,  one  of  those  rudely-fashioned  stone  imple- 
ments with  which  one  of  those  cave-dwellers  beat  the 
life  out  of  the  bear  he  was  killing ;  broke  its  bones  into 
manageable  morsels  to  handle ;  rubbed,  perhaps,  his 
firewood  into  flame ;  and  knocked  out,  very  probably, 
the  brains  of  some  one  he  accounted  an  enemy.  Who 
was  that  far-off  wielder  of  that  heavy  stone  mallet  ?  A 
very  low-down  sort  of  man,  certainly,  but  indubitably 
a  man.  But  if  a  man,  then  a  b^ing  with  some  account- 
abilities ;  a  being  with  a  soul  somewhere  inside  of  him  ; 
a  being  with  some  kind  of  relations  to  his  Maker ;  a 
being  with  some  sort  of  a  hereafter  ;  a  being  with  some 
possibilities  of  gracious  guidance.  And  are  you  going 
to  leave  him  out  of  all  account  because  he  did  not  know 
how  to  read  and  write ;  because  he  had  never  heard  of 
Abraham  oi^  Moses,  or  the  Bible  Society  or  the  Sun- 
day-school ?  Do  you  suppose  God  leaves  him  out  of 
His  account  ?  Forgets  him  in  his  nakedness  to  re- 
member you  in  your  fine  clothes  .'*  Ah  !  if  He  is  God, 
He  does  no  such  thing. 

"  O  the  generations  old, 
Over  whom  no  church-bell  tolled ;  "  — 

if  God  is  God,  He  remembers  them,  and  some  way 
fairly  and  divinely  deals  with  them  in  procedures  of 
pity  and  of  grace. 

Or,  look  in  the  other  direction.  Paul  apparently 
supposed  that  the  "  great  day  of  the  Lord,"  the  grand 
consummation  of  the  kingdom  of  God,  was  not  very  far 


SERMONS.  225 

off  ;  might  possibly  come  in  the  lifetime  of  living  read- 
ers of  his  letters.  It  is  no  disparagement  of  his  wis- 
dom, or  even  of  his  inspiration,  that  he  was  not  ac- 
quainted with  what  was  really  to  be  the  fact,  since  our 
Saviour  Himself  said,  "Of  that  day  and  that  hour 
knoweth  no  man,  no,  not  the  angels  which  are  in 
heaven,  neither  the  Son,  but  the  Father."  So  that 
when  we  see  that  perhaps  more  than  fifteen  centuries 
longer  duration  than  ever  entered  into  Paul's  estimate 
have  already  rolled  away ;  all  freighted  full  with  their 
various  experiences  in  the  history  of  the  Church  and 
the  lives  of  individual  men  ;  all  bearing  minute,  com- 
prehensive, general,  and  particular  tokens  of  providen- 
tial and  gracious  dealings  of  God  in  the  world  ;  and  the 
same  story  still  stretching  onward,  we  know  not  how 
far,  we  cannot  tell  how  long,  before  the  yet  delayed 
but  certain  consummation  of  the  divine  plan  is  fulfilled, 
we  are  lost  in  an  amazement  profounder  than  Paul's 
could  have  been,  and  can  only  cry  out  in  an  astonish- 
ment greater  than  his,  Oh,  the  length,  the  measure- 
less length  of  God's  grace  among  men  ! 

But  "the  Depth,"  says  the  apostle. 

In  his  famous  first  chapter  of  his  letter  to  the  Ro- 
mans, Paul  paints  a  lurid  picture  of  the  sinfulness  of 
mankind.  He  sets  forth  the  moral  consequences  over 
all  the  earth  of  the  rejection,  by  men,  of  the  lights  of 
nature  and  of  conscience.  He  delineates  with  graphic 
and  powerful  strokes  the  blindness  of  mind,  and  the 
corruptions  of  the  body,  to  which  such  forgetfulness  of 
the  "eternal  power  and  Godhead  "  naturally  leads  on. 
It  is  an  awful  and  repulsive  portrayal  of  the  results  of 
that  unwillingness  to  "retain  God  in  their  knowledge" 
which  culminates  in  the  "reprobate  mind,"  whose  pos- 
15 


226  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

sessors  he  describes  as  "  being  filled  with  all  unright- 
eousness, fornication,  wickedness,  covetousness,  mali- 
ciousness ;  full  of  envy,  murder,  debate,  deceit,  malig- 
nity ;  whisperers,  backbiters,  haters  of  God,  despiteful, 
proud,  boasters,  inventors  of  evil  things,  disobedient  to 
parents,  without  understanding,  covenant  breakers, 
without  natural  affection,  implacable,  unmerciful." 
Truly  a  fearful  catalogue  of  moral  delinquencies,  and 
one  which  requires  an  amazing  downward  reach  of  di- 
vine grace  to  get  underneath,  in  order  to  lift  men  out 
of  such  a  quagmire  of  sin  and  uncleanness.  Certainly, 
in  contemplating  the  adequacy  of  the  heavenly  provi- 
sion made  to  go  down  so  low  in  the  rescue  of  men, 
Paul  had  reason  to  exclaim.  Oh,  the  depth,  the  wonder- 
ful depth  of  the  grace  of  God ! 

But  it  is  observable  that  the  picture  Paul  here  draws 
is  a  picture  of  sin,  not  against  grace,  but  only  against  na- 
ture. He  is  speaking  of  the  consequences  of  rejecting 
that  revelation  of  Himself  which  God  has  made,  even 
in  the  midst  of  darkest  heathenism,  through  the  crea- 
tive and  providential  works  of  His  hands,  and  in  the 
sentiment  or  instinct  of  righteousness  which  He  has 
lodged  even  in  pagan  breasts.  Now,  it  is  one  of  the 
plainest  of  moral  principles,  discovered  by  reason  and 
inculcated  in  Scripture,  that  the  degree  of  wrong  in 
any  act  is  not  so  much  measured  by  the  act  itself,  as 
by  the  light  the  doer  had  in  the  performance  of  it. 
Our  Saviour  sets  this  principle  forth  with  the  utmost 
distinctness,  when  he  speaks  of  the  beating  with  "few" 
or  with  "many  stripes,"  according  as  the  tran.sgressor 
knew  or  did  not  know  with  clearness  the  Master's  will. 
The  application  of  this  principle  to  human  action  con- 
ducts us  to  the  inevitable  conclusion  that  there  are 


SERMOXS. 


227 


worse  transgressors  by  far  than  those  the  apostle  tells 
us  of  in  his  epistle  to  the  Romans.  It  is  a  deeper  and 
a  darker  sin  to  reject  the  light  of  revelation  than  na- 
ture's comparatively  obscure  and  trembling  ray.  To 
do  despite  unto  the  Spirit  of  grace,  and  to  count  the 
blood  of  redemption  of  nothing  worth,  is  a  greater 
transgression  than  for  a  child  of  nature,  only,  to  steal,  or 
murder,  or  corrupt  his  body  with  vice.  We  are  apt  to  put 
a  relative  emphasis  on  bodily  sins,  an  emphasis  which 
the  Bible  does  not.  The  Scriptures  do,  indeed,  con- 
demn them,  but  they  condemn  still  more  some  spiritual 
sins  which  we  are  apt  to  pass  over  with  light  reproof. 
Pride,  envy,  ingratitude,  unbelief,  insensibility  to  di- 
vine love,  carelessness  about  the  provisions  of  heavenly 
mercy  for  the  help  of  men ;  especially  indifference  to 
a  Saviour's  work  and  offers  in  our  behalf,  how  compar- 
atively easy  our  judgment  of  these  things,  when  meas- 
ured by  what  we  call  sins  of  the  body.  Our  Saviour 
certainly  did  not  judge  so.  He  told  certain  outwardly 
upright  and  respectable  citizens  and  public  instructors 
in  Jerusalem,  that  the  publicans  and  harlots  of  that 
city  would  go  into  the  kingdom  of  God  before  them. 

So  that  we  who  sit  in  the  clear  light  of  the  Gospel 
day  ;  we  children  of  parents  whose  lives  were  a  witness 
to  the  Gospel's  saving  power ;  we  who  are  surrounded 
by  accumulating  tokens  of  the  truth  and  the  infinite 
tenderness  of  the  grace  of  God,  rejecting  that  grace, 
or  being  careless  about  it,  need  a  depth  of  mercy  in 
our  behalf  far  more  patient  and  profound  than  many  a 
cannibal  father  who  has  eaten  his  child,  or  felon  who 
has  swung  from  a  gallows-tree.  Oh,  the  depth  of 
divine  grace  which  we  need,  my  hearers  !  How  often 
and   how   long  have  we  neglected  light,   and  abused 


2  28  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

privilege  !  Charles  Wesley  was  never  what  is  called  a 
bad  man  ;  but  under  the  light  of  his  opportunities  and 
his  shortcomings  he  felt  compelled  to  cry  : 

"  Depth  of  Mercy,  can  there  be 
Mercy  still  reserved  for  me  ? 
I  have  long  withstood  His  grace 
Long  provoked  Him  to  His  face 
Would  not  hearken  to  His  calls; 
Grieved  Him  by  a  thousand  falls." 

And  we,  if  we  understand  our  own  needs,  and  espe- 
cially if  we  humbly  hope  that  those  needs  have  been 
in  some  measure  supplied  by  a  love  of  infinite  patience 
and  tenderness  covering  and  forgetting  all  our  sins, 
will  surely  feel  that  we  have  like  reason  to  exclaim.  Oh, 
the  depth,  the  fathomless  depth,  of  the  grace  of  God  ! 

"  And  the  Height,"  the  "  Height,"  once  more  says 
the  Apostle. 

To  what  lofty  end  does  ail  this  manifestation  of  the 
love  of  God  toward  men  lead  on  ?  Paul  has  himself 
spoken  most  inspiring  and  uplifting  words  on  this 
point.  To  the  Galatian  Christians  he  wrote  concern- 
ing the  purpose  of  this  operation  of  heavenly  grace 
that  its  object  was  to  make  men  "the  sons  of  God." 
In  his  Roman  letter  he  still  further  elaborated  this 
thought.  "  And  if  children  then  heirs  ;  heirs  of  God, 
and  joint-heirs  with  Christ;"  a  conception  which  he 
yet  more  perfectly  develops  in  his  first  Corinthian 
epistle,  when  he  says  of  the  effect  of  this  divine  pur- 
pose, "  All  things  are  yours  :  whether  Paul,  or  Apollos, 
or  Cephas,  or  the  world,  or  life  or  death,  or  things 
present  or  things  to  come,  all  are  yours."  Or  still 
more  explicitly  in  the  Ephesian  letter  and  in  close  con- 
nection   with    our   text  :    "  But    God    who   is  rich    in 


SERMONS,  229 

mercy,  for  His  great  love  wherewith  He  loved  us,  even 
when  we  were  dead  in  sins,  hath  quickened  us  together 
with  Christ  ....  and  hath  raised  us  up  to- 
gether, and  made  us  sit  together  in  heavenly  places  in 
Christ  Jesus,  that  in  the  ages  to  come  He  might  show 
the  exceeding  riches  of  His  grace  in  His  kindness 
toward  us  through  Christ  Jesus."  The  adoption  of 
men  into  divine  sonship,  with  vast  and  inalienable 
privileges  as  God's  children,  and  the  manifestation 
through  this  gracious  work  of  His  own  character  to 
the  universe,  this  is  the  end,  as  the  apostle  conceives 
of  it,  of  the  amazing  uplift  of  the  plan  of  God.  No 
wonder  he  cries,  Oh,  the  height  ! 

But  it  is  obvious  that  in  whatever  degree  our  con- 
ceptions of  the  greatness  of  that  Being  of  whom  we 
are  made  sons  is  enlarged,  the  vastness  of  that  inheri- 
tance of  which  heirship  is  promised  is  proportionately 
increased;  and  the  majesty  of  that  universe  to  whose 
powers  and  intelligences  in  heavenly  places  these 
things  are  to  be  revealed  is  widened  and  exalted.  In 
the  same  proportion,  also,  the  wonder  rises  that  God's 
grace  is  so  high.  Yet,  in  all  these  points,  we  have 
light  the  apostle  did  not  have.  God  is  not  only  great. 
He  is  greater  with  every  revolving  year.  His  universe 
widens  every  hour.  Heirship  in  it  ;  sonship  to  its 
Head,  is  a  privilege  it  never  was  before. 

"  The  fathers  saw  not  all  of  Thee." 
New  births  are  in  Thy  grace ; 
Thou  God  of  light,  to  us  reveal 
Thy  glory's  hiding-place." 

That  prayer  is  answering  every  hour.  More  than 
prophets,  psalmists,  or  apostles  of  old,  are  we  privileged 


230  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON   WALKER,    D.D. 

to    see   of   the   length,    the   breadth,    the    depth,    the 
height  of  the  grace  of  God. 

And  now  the  single  word  in  conclusion  comes  : 
Brethren  and  sisters,  keep  this  your  glorious  privilege 
and  calling  in  mind  !  Let  it  have  its  proper  effect 
upon  you.  Live  under  its  inspiration  and  its  uplifting 
power.  Sons  and  daughters  of  God  Almighty, 
remember  what  are  the  riches  of  your  inheritance  in 
Christ  !  Let  nothing  deprive  you  of  the  comfort  of 
its  recollection.  Suffer  nothing  lower,  more  earthly 
and  trivial,  to  rival  in  your  affections  that  which,  great- 
est of  all  possible  privileges  in  reality,  should  be  great- 
est and  most  prized  in  your  estimate  of  it.  Let  this 
word  of  inspired  exhortation  abide  with  you,  exercising 
over  you  its  proper  stimulating,  restraining,  uplifting 
power  :  Seeing  then  that  ye  look  for  these  things, 
"  what  manner  of  persons  ought  ye  to  be,  in  all  holy 
conversation  and  godliness." 


SERMONS. 


231 


XIV. 

THE   SEPULCHRE   IN   THE   GARDEN.* 

John  xix  :  41. 

'■'■  Noiu  in  the  place  where  he  was  crucified  there  was  a  garden, 
and  ill  the  garden  a  new  sepulchre.'''' 

I  cannot  believe  it  was  mere  fidelity  to  history  which 
led  John  to  record  that  the  place  of  our  Saviour's  cruci- 
fixion was  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  a  garden,  or 
that  it  was  in  a  garden  that  He  was  buried.  We  can 
none  of  us  forget  that  more  than  one  of  the  great 
events  of  human  sin  and  human  redemption,  of  which 
the  burial  of  Christ  was  but  a  part,  occurred  in  a 
similar  spot. 

Biblical  history  commences  in  a  garden.  The  open- 
ing chapter  of  all  this  world's  experience  narrates  the 
bliss  and  beauty  of  Eden.  The  Scripture  record  of 
God's  dealings  with  men  preserves  for  us  the  memory 
of  a  morning  hour  of  human  life  spent  amid  the  de- 
lights of  a  rural  paradise.  But  a  garden  is  not  the 
scene  of  human  history's  happy  commencement  alone. 
It  is  the  scene,  also,  of  human  nature's  fatal  temptation 
and  fall.  It  was  in  a  garden  that  sin  achieved  its  first 
victory  over  our  race,  and  that  death  received  its  first 


*  Written  in  1863,  rewritten  in  1889,  and  preaclied  on  Easter 
Sunday  of  that  year. 


232  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

power.  It  is  to  a  primeval  pleasure-ground,  a  place  of 
beauty  and  of  joy,  —  of  which  every  garden  is  a  kind 
of  faded  memorial,  —  that  we  look  back  to  see  where 
guilt  entered  and  all  our  woe. 

There  is,  therefore,  a  kind  of  fitness,  which  we  can- 
not think  undesigned,  in  the  fact  that  it  is  to  a  similar 
spot,  also,  that  we  look  back  for  the  beginning  of  the 
reversal  of  all  this.  Where  sin  and  death  gained  their 
great  victory,  there,  too,  they  suffered  their  great 
defeat.  It  was  in  a  garden  that  Adam  was  tempted 
and  fell.  It  was  in  Gethsemane  that  Christ  agonized 
and  overcame.  It  was  in  Eden  that  Adam  received 
the  sentence  :  "  Dust  thou  art,  and  to  dust  shalt  thou 
return."  It  was  in  a  garden  on  the  hillside  of  Calvary 
that  the  second  Adam  rose  from  the  grave  "  seeing  no 
corruption."  Adam,  the  first  opener  of  the  tomb,  dug 
the  burial  place  of  a  race  in  the  garden  soil  of  Paradise  : 
Christ,  the  "first  fruits"  of  those  who  shall  forever 
live,  fell  to  the  ground  like  a  grain  of  wheat  and  was 
laid  in  a  garden  sepulchre.  The  happiest,  saddest, 
mightiest  scenes  of  human  story  are  thus  disclosed  as 
having  occurred  in  that  spot  which  is  to  men  a  kind  of 
symbol  of  what  is  most  beautiful  and  blest,  —  a  garden. 

The  narrative  which  John  gives  of  the  crucifixion  of 
his  Master  introduces  us  to  the  garden-grounds  of 
Joseph  of  Arimathea.  We  know  nothing  of  this  man, 
save  what  we  learn  from  the  few  facts  recorded  of  him 
in  connection  with  the  burial  of  Christ.  Where  he 
had  met  Christ ;  whether  he  was,  as  seems  probable, 
one  of  the  Sanhedrin  before  whom  our  Lord  was 
brought ;  how  far  he  had  previously  shown  an  interest 
in  the  Saviour's  person  or  teachings,  —  these  are  ques- 
tions there  are  no  certain  means  for  deciding.     About 


SERMONS,  233 

all  that  can  be  definitely  afifirmed  is  that  he  was  rich, 
and  that  he  stood  in  some  official  relation  to  the 
government.  This  wealthy  and  influential  man,  avail- 
ing himself  of  his  privilege  as  a  person  of  station, 
gained  permission  from  Pilate  to  take  down  the  body 
of  Christ  from  the  cross  and  to  deposit  it  in  a  tomb  in 
his  garden,  which  lay  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the 
place  of  crucifixion. 

This  garden  of  Joseph's  we  may  reasonably  suppose 
partook  of  the  characteristic  features  of  such  spots 
among  the  Jews.  Jewish  gardens  were  often  consid- 
erably remote  from  their  possessors'  dwelling-places. 
They  were  not  generally,  as  ours  are,  connected  with 
their  owners'  houses,  but  were  more  frequently  outside 
of  the  city  walls,  on  some  sunny  hillside,  or  in  some 
spring-moistened  valley.  Such  a  spot  the  rich  coun- 
sellor possessed  on  the  gentle  acclivity  of  a  hill  lying  a 
little  to  the  northwest  of  Jerusalem.  It  was,  probably, 
after  the  usual  Hebrew  custom,  a  place  made  beautiful 
by  assiduous  culture  and  care.  To  it,  we  may  imagine, 
Joseph  and  his  household  were  wont  to  go,  —  as  is  still 
the  manner  in  Oriental  towns,  —  in  the  morning  hours, 
before  the  sun  had  left  the  top  of  Olivet,  or  in  the 
softer  light  of  setting  day.  It  was  the  household's 
pleasure-ground.  It  was  a  place  set  apart  for  happiness. 
There  age  might  lay  aside  its  years,  and  manhood  for- 
get its  cares,  and  childhood  rejoice  as  on  its  native 
soil.  The  very  end  for  which  its  walls  were  built,  its 
alleys  graded,  its  borders  set  with  fruit  trees  and  with 
flowers,  was  happiness.  For  business,  the  counsellor 
could  haunt  the  "dusky  purlieus  of  the  law"  in  some 
Temple  court  or  Jerusalem  street :  even  for  the  routine 
of  life's  common  satisfactions  a  home  within  the  city's 


234 


REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 


walls  would  do  ;  but  for  the  free  unbending  of  the 
heart  in  its  gayer  moments,  when  it  cast  off  business 
and  routine,  the  rich  man  had  hedged  about  a  garden 
—  the  very  name  a  sound  of  pleasure. 

But  for  a  place  thus  set  apart  for  joy  the  spot  had 
one  feature  apparently  inharmonious.  In  Joseph's 
garden  there  was  a  sepulchre.  Close  by  where  flowers 
bloomed  and  ripening  figs  and  apricots  blushed  ;  per- 
haps even  clambered  over  by  the  grape  and  festooned 
with  its  purpling  clusters,  rose  the  somber  doorway  of 
a  tomb.  Whether  built  by  the  rich  man  in  anticipation 
of  a  need  whereof  possibly  the  slow  advancing  illness 
of  some  member  of  his  household  had  forewarned  him, 
or  raised  only  in  view  of  the  grim  certainty  which  lies 
before  every  man  of  a  want  some  time  to  be  experi- 
enced which  only  a  hiding-place  for  the  tenantless 
body  can  satisfy,  there  it  stood,  in  the  spot  dedicated  to 
pleasure,  a  reminder  of  the  hour  which  puts  a  period  to 
earthly  joy,  a  silent  but  eloquent  monitor  ot  mortality. 
And  though  it  is  said  that  it  was  a  "new"  sepulchre 
"wherein  was  never  man  yet  laid,"  yet  a  man  of 
Joseph's  years  could  not  have  looked  upon  it  without 
being  reminded,  if  not  of  friends  laid  there  to  rest,  yet 
of  them  as  laid  somewhere,  gathered  in  other  graves, 
hidden  from  him  by  doors  as  massy  and  darkness  as 
silent  as  this  "  new  sepulchre's."  To  him,  *therefore, 
and  his  household,  there  was  always  in  the  midst  of 
the  place  devoted  to  happiness  a  memento  of  sorrow. 
Bright  as  sun  could  shine,  gay  as  flowers  could  blush, 
there  was,  —  and  it  could  not  be  forgotten,  —  the 
sepulchre. 

But  what  is  thus  told  us  of  Joseph  and  his  sepulchre 
is  not  so  strange  after  all.     The  like  is  true  of  almost 


SERMONS. 


235 


every  man.  In  almost  all  gardens  there  is  a  sepulchre. 
Let  life  go  with  us  gently  as  it  may,  it  is  not  very  long 
generally  before  amid  the  very  scene  of  our  joy  there  is 
some  kind  of  a  tomb.  Ever  since  that  day  in  the  first 
garden  when  man  took  of  the  "  tree  of  knowledge  of 
good  and  evil,"  evil  has  mingled  with  all  our  good.  It 
was  a  sad  choice  for  his  posterity  which  the  first  father 
of  our  race  made  for  us  ;  but  it  was  made,  and  we  can 
none  of  us  escape  the  inheritance  to  which  we  are  born. 
Henceforth  there  was  for  man  a  bitter  in  every  sweet, 
a  doubt  in  every  hope,  a  shadow  over  every  light. 
Henceforth  perfect  happiness  or  peace  were  found 
nowhere.     In  every  "garden"  came  a  "sepulchre." 

These  sepulchres  in  men's  gardens  are,  however, 
very  diverse  in  character.  In  some  lives,  the  sepul- 
chre is  some  form  of  bodily  infirmity.  The  man  is 
rich,  respected,  surrounded  by  friends,  but,  with  all 
these  things,  lacks  the  common  boon  of  health.  And 
so  the  coarse  crust  is  sweeter  to  the  day-laborer  than 
the  dainties  of  every  clime  to  him,  and  down  is  harsher 
under  his  restless  head  than  the  bare  floor  to  one  who 
sweeps  the  streets.  In  other  lives,  the  sepulchre  is 
some  form  of  inward  unhappiness  ;  some  memory  of 
sin  or  error  in  the  past ;  some  mischance,  bringing  un- 
just suspicion  on  one's  good  name  ;  some  anxiety  of 
the  present  or  dread  of  the  future,  is  like  a  tomb  in 
the  garden,  a  dark  spot  in  all  the  life. 

Or  that  which  imparts  the  sombre  hue  to  existence 
may  be  the  character  of  a  child  or  of  a  companion. 
This  is  the  discordant  or  tragic  note  in  the  household 
joy.  Or  it  may  be  a  veritable  sepulchre  which  is  the 
sad  spot  in  our  lives.  Into  the  happiest  of  homes  the 
grim  messenger  who  builds  such  sepulchres  enters.     It 


236  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

is  not  absolutely  true  as  our    Longfellow   says,    but   it 
comes  pretty  near  being  true  — 

"  There  is  no  flock,  however  watched  and  tended. 
But  one  dead  lamb  is  there ; 
There  is  no  fireside,  howsoe'er  defended, 
But  has  its  vacant  chair." 

The  grave  may  be  but  a  span  long,  only  big  enough 
to  hide  a  curly  head  and  dimpled  feet,  or  it  may  be 
wide  enough  for  manhood  with  hoary  hairs  to  rest  in  ; 
but,  soon  or  late,  some  such  are  found  in  all  the  gardens 
of  our  lives. 

And  so  many  and  so  hidden,  oftentimes,  from  the 
eyes  of  others  are  these  sepulchres  in  the  garden,  that 
a  man  must  be  either  very  bold  or  very  foolish  who 
dares  to  covet  another's  lot.  It  is  not  always  the  out- 
ward aspect  of  a  life  which  bespeaks  it  truly.  It  may 
seem  an  unusually  happy  life,  very  honorable,  very 
enviable,  very  full  of  satisfactions;  but  its  possessor 
might  unfold  another  story  about  it.  While  you  stand 
admiring,  and  wishing  such  a  lot  your  own,  he  whom 
you  look  upon  may  be  almost  dying  with  some  unsus- 
pected misery,  and,  if  he  would,  could  tell  you  a  tale 
which  would  warn  you  from  ever  envying  any  man 
again  till  you  have  seen  the  sepulchre  in  his  garden. 

When  the  literary  public  of  Great  Britain,  about  the 
year  1820,  were  alternately  laughing  and  crying  over 
the  mingled  wit  and  pathos  of  the  essays  of  Elia,  then 
publishing  by  an  anonymous  writer,  little  did  the  curi- 
ous public  conjecture  that  those  gems  of  tenderness 
and  of  mirth  came  forth  from  the  closet  of  an  over- 
tasked East-India-House  clerk,  whose  chief  object  in 
life  was  to  watch  over  and  keep  a  home  for  a  maniac 


SERMONS. 


237 


sister, —  a  sister  who  had  killed  their  common  mother 
with  her  own  hand,  and  who  was  liable  at  any  moment 
to  burst  out  in  a  similar  assault  against  her  brother 
and  only  friend. 

Few  were  they  who  rightly  understood,  during  the 
closing  years  of  Edmund  Burke,  how  much  of  the  soft- 
ened splendor,  the  sweet  sad  majesty  of  his  later  elo- 
quence, was  the  fruit  of  the  affliction  which  robbed 
England's  stateliest  orator  of  his  only  son,  and  hid  the 
great  man's  heart  in  that  grave  from  which  ambition  or 
applause  could  never  tempt  it  again. 

Many  of  the  jokes  and  repartees  of  Rev.  Dr.  Strong, 
the  witty  and  able  pastor  of  this  church,  who  died 
seventy-three  years  ago,  are  still  current  among  the 
stories  of  this  Hartford  town.  But  nothing  which  I 
have  ever  heard  of  him  ever  let  me  so  much  into  his 
heart  as  the  inquiry  he  made  at  the  time  of  the  build- 
ing of  the  bridge  across  the  river  to  the  East  Hartford 
side,  as  to  just  where  the  bridge  was  located.  Why 
did  he  not  go  and  see,  do  you  ask  .''  Because  on  one 
September  evening,  his  eighteen  year  old  boy,  just 
graduated  from  Yale  College,  returning  from  a  journey, 
fell  from  the  ferry-boat  and  was  brought,  some  time  in 
the  night,  a  lifeless  body  to  the  father's  house,  just 
across  this  street  opposite,  and  never  after  that  day, 
though  years  had  gone,  had  the  father  been  able  to 
visit  that  section  of  the  town  which  came  within  sight 
of  that  fatal  spot. 

In  having  a  sad  spot  in  it,  Joseph's  pleasure-ground 
was  not,  therefore,  an  exceptional  one.  The  incongru- 
ous feature  is  not  unusual,  after  all.  A  sepulchre  in 
the  garden  is  only  what  is  very  common  in  men's 
lives. 


238  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

But  it  is  time  to  turn  to  another  aspect  of  this  mat- 
ter of  the  sepulchre  in  Joseph's  garden.  At  first  it 
seemed  strange  to  find  it  there.  It  was  an  unexpected 
fellowship, —  flowers  and  the  grave,  a  pleasure-ground 
and  a  tomb  ;  but  a  little  reflection  showed  that  the 
same  fellowship  is  in  almost  all  lives.  We  are,  there- 
fore, prepared,  perhaps,  to  discover  with  less  surprise 
that  the  sepulchre  in  Joseph's  garden  was  the  best 
thing  there  was  in  it.  The  happiest  spot  in  the  whole 
ground  was  just  that  where  was  the  tomb.  Joseph 
found  it  so.  It  was  that  spot  which  did  more  for  him 
than  all  the  rest. 

Joseph  had  come,  spring  after  spring,  to  see  the  mys- 
tery of  the  awakening  soil ;  he  had  beheld  the  rising 
of  the  lily  from  the  mould,  and  the  bursting  of  the 
cerements  wrapped  about  the  buds  on  every  bough. 
But  now  it  was  the  place  of  death  which  was  to 
quicken  ;  the  spot  set  apart  for  human  dust  which  was 
to  stir  with  a  more  wondrous  rising  again  than  ever 
his  orarden  knew.  A  crucified  man  had  been  laid  three 
days  before  in  the  tomb  of  the  generous  Arimathean. 
The  new  sepulchre  had  its  occupant.  No  longer  a 
monitor  of  mortality  to  be  experienced,  it  was  an  in- 
folder  of  death  realized.  Doubtless,  something  of  a 
deeper  shadow  crept  over  the  garden  for  Joseph  and 
his  household,  now  that  the  tomb  had  its  inhabitant. 
If,  on  that  Friday  evening,  after  the  crucified  man  had 
been  laid  in  the  new  sepulchre,  we  may  imagine  the 
family  to  have  visited  their  garden-ground,  we  can  well 
believe,  that  though  on  that  9th  of  April,  the  tokens 
of  a  Palestine  springtime  must  have  been  visible  every- 
where in  the  enclosure,  still  the  suggestions  of  the 
place  must  have  been  to  them  of  death,  more  than  of 


SERMONS. 


239 


life  ;  dissolution,  more  than  rising  again.  The  sepul- 
chre never  could  have  seemed  so  prominent  in  the 
garden  before.  Never  could  it  have  appeared  so  incon- 
gruous with  the  spot. 

But  on  the  Sunday  afternoon  following .''  On  any- 
day  subsequent  to  that  third  morning  afterward,  when 
two  angels  sitting  in  the  tomb,  said  :  "  He  is  not  here, 
but  is  risen  "  ?  What  was  the  place  now  to  Joseph  and 
his  household  .''  Words  cannot  tell  the  alteration  of  it. 
Immeasurable  the  change  for  Joseph  and  all  his,  which 
had  come  over  their  pleasure-ground.  For  him  and 
them  what  a  book  of  revelation  had  been  opened  there  ! 
To  what  a  new  and  deeper  range  of  emotion  did  the 
spot  now  minister  !  Problems  had  been  there  answered 
over  which  their  hearts  and  all  the  world's  hearts  had 
ached  in  vain.  The  counsellor  had  prepared  the  place 
to  lend  life  a  keener  zest  ;  the  event  which  had  now 
occurred  spoke  not  of  life  but  of  immortality.  He  had 
been  wont  to  go  thither  to  lay  aside  something  of  this 
world's  fret  and  weariness  ;  when  now  he  went,  it  was 
to  behold  a  spot  on  which  had  been  disclosed  another 
world's  reality  and  blessedness.  The  sepulchre  had 
been  once  a  reminder,  filling  him  with  pensive  thoughts 
of  the  hour  when  pleasure  and  business  should  alike  be 
over ;  it  spoke  to  him  now  of  a  time,  when,  in  a  better 
world,  every  noble  activity  should  be  resumed.  ,He 
may  have  paused  sometimes,  in  days  gone  by,  beside 
the  tomb  he  had  built  for  his  last  sleep,  and  have 
asked  himself,  "  What  assurance  have  I  that  I  shall 
not  sleep  here  forever  ? "  But,  after  that  Sunday 
morning,  one  imagines  his  step  must  have  quickened 
as  he  came  near  the  spot,  where,  for  him  and  for  all 
men,  resurrection  and  life  eternal  had  been  brought  to 


!40 


REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 


light.  No  other  nook  of  his  garden  had  a  lesson  like 
that.  The  sepulchre  had  become  the  garden's  joy. 
The  bed  of  tulips  and  lilies  was  not  so  beautiful  as  the 
stony  niche  in  which  the  Son  of  Man  was  laid,  but 
from  which  he  came  forth,  the  "  first-fruits  "  of  all  who 
sleep. 

And  as  Joseph  came,  at  last,  to  need  the  shelter  of 
the  sepulchre's  roof,  and  the  protection  of  its  close- 
shut  doors,  one  thinks  his  aged  limbs  composed  them- 
selves to  a  willing  rest,  and  all  his  mortal  flesh  re- 
joiced to  lie  down  in  a  spot  where  He  who  had 
"  abolished  death  "  and  conquered  the  grave  had  lain 
before  him.  Surely  of  all  the  garden's  precincts  that 
was  now  the  best.  It  was  the  hill  of  hope.  It  was 
the  haunt  of  peace.  It  was  a  spot  making  happier 
every  day  of  this  life,  with  a  gladness  radiating  from 
the  life  to  come. 

Not  unlike  this  is  it  oftentimes  with  the  sepulchres 
in  other  men's  gardens.  The  careful  observer  of 
God's  dealings  with  men  sees,  frequently,  that  these 
places  of  life's  sorrow  become  the  centers  of  life's 
best  joy.  These  words  vv^ritten  of  great,  blind  Mil- 
ton,—  they  might  almost  have  been  written  by  him,— 
well  express  the  not  uncommon  office  of  the  afflictions 
of  our  days  : 

"  I  am  old  and  blind  ; 

Men  point  at  me  as  smitten  by  God's  frown ; 
Afflicted  and  deserted  of  my  kind, 

Yet  I  am  not  cast  down. 

I  am  weak,  yet  strong, 

I  murmur  not  that  I  no  longer  see  ; 
Poor,  old  and  helpless,  I  the  more  belong. 

Father  supreme,  to  Thee  ! 


SERMONS. 


241 


Thy  glorious  face 

Is  leaning  toward  me,  and  its  holy  light 
Shines  in  upon  my  dwelling  place, 
'  And  there  is  no  more  night. 

On  my  bended  knee 

I  recognize  thy  purpose  clearly  shown  — 
My  vision  hast  thou  dimmed  that  I  may  see 

Thyself  alone." 

So,  under  the  dark  shadow  of  affliction,  many 
another  soul  than  Milton's  enters  into  truer  communion 
with  itself  than  it  ever  had  before.  It  strikes  a  juster 
balance  between  life's  seemings  and  life's  substances. 
It  learns  how  empty  and  unimportant  are  many  of  the 
objects,  which,  in  the  untroubled  hours  of  existence, 
appeared  of  great  concern.  It  learns  the  great  lesson, 
that  a  garden  of  pleasure  is  not  all  a  man  wants  ;  he 
wants  a  resurrection-spot  for  his  soul.  He  wants  a 
place  this  side  the  grave  where  the  things  of  the  other 
side  may  be  seen  ;  where  they  may  in  a  manner  come 
forward  into  the  present,  and  exert  the  influence  which 
rightfully  belongs  to  them.  He  wants  a  solemn  re- 
minder that  this  life  is  but  a  small  fraction  of  his 
being ;  this  world  ministers  but  to  the  smallest  of  his 
needs  ;  and  that  the  great  wants  as  well  as  the  great 
destinies  of  the  soul  are  otherwhere.  These  are 
facts  which  are  oftener  effectually  taught  us  by  the 
sepulchres  in  our  gardens  than  by  all  the  rest  of  our 
lives  ;  and  so  they  become  the  best  part  of  life  to  us. 
No  other  part  does  so  much  for  us  ;  no  other  gives  in- 
structions so  needed  and  so  profound.  We  cannot  do 
without  the  burial-places  in  our  gardens.  They  give 
us, —  what  without  them  we  are  slow  to  find, —  a  place 
to  unrobe  ourselves  of  earth's  vanities,  and  put  on  the 
16 


242  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

garments  becoming  heirs  of  immortality.  It  is  not 
the  tulip-ground  and  the  summer-house  in  our  days 
which  generally  give  this  ;  it  is  the  bereavement  and 
the  sorrow. 

Are  there  those  of  you,  my  hearers,  in  whose  gar- 
dens has  never  yet  been  built  any  kind  of  sepulchre  ? 
I  do  not  know  whether  to  rejoice  or  grieve  for  you. 
It  may  be  you  are  learning  all  the  lessons  such  a  spot 
is  designed  to  teach  in  some  other  way.  It  may  be 
you  are  living  so  humble  and  faithful  a  Christian  life 
that  God  sees  you  do  not  need  trouble.  If  it  be  so, 
the  unbroken  flow  of  happiness  in  your  life  is  an  occa- 
sion for  gladness.  Happy  the  man  who  runs  so  un- 
falteringly up  the  shining  way  that  he  needs  no  spurs 
of  earthly  trial  to  urge  him  on  !  But  if  this  is  not  the 
case  .''  Then  I  do  not  know  whether  it  would  be  true 
kindness  to  congratulate  you  that  your  life  has  in 
no  considerable  sorrow,  your  garden  no  tomb.  There 
is  one  word  of  God,  and  a  very  gentle  word  it  is  too, 
which  might  trouble  such  a  man  almost  more  than  any 
other  word  beside  :  "  Whom  the  Lord  loveth  he  chas- 
teneth,  and  scourgeth  every  son  whom  he  receiveth." 
And  as  such  a  person  perceives  the  comparative  free- 
dom from  the  heavenly  chastisement  which  marks  his 
days,  and  discerns,  too,  that  there  is  nothing  in  his 
superior  fidelity  to  the  Lord's  service  which  goes  any 
way  toward  lighting  up  the  mysterious  problem  why  it 
is  that  he  is  exempt,  he  may  well  tremble  between 
these  two  fears  ;  the  fear  that  he  is  one  whom  the 
Lord  loveth  not,  or  the  fear  of  those  days,  which,  so 
surely  as  he  is  beloved,  will  see  the  sepulchre  in  his 
garden  somewise  built. 

But  many  of  you, —  nay,  most  of  you,  my  friends. 


SERMONS. 


243 


here  to-day, — know  full  well  what  it  is  to  have  a 
sepulchre  in  the  garden  of  your  lives.  You  know  the 
shadow  that  it  sheds  over  all  the  pleasant  alleys  and 
the  bordered  paths.  You  need  not  be  told  how  it 
changes  the  place  for  you  into  sornething  other  than  it 
was.  So  it  did  for  Joseph.  The  tenanted  sepulchre 
darkened  all  the  ground. 

But  friends,  there  is  another  aspect  of  this  matter. 
Joseph  found  another.  This  Easter  Sunday  is  a 
memorial  of  it.  Not  a  spot  in  all  the  enclosure 
brought  him  so  enduring  joy  as  the  very  place  which 
he  had  builded  for  sorrow.  And  the  sepulchre  in  your 
garden  may  do  the  same  for  you.  It  may  be  a  resur- 
rection-spot for  your  soul.  Out  of  the  sorrow  which 
wraps  you  round,  you  may  rise  into  a  purer  and  serener 
day.  The  rolling  of  the  "great  stone"  to  the  door 
may  mark  the  finishing  and  hiding-away  of  one  por- 
tion of  your  Christian  life.  And  the  rolling  of  that 
stone  away  on  the  third  morning  may  be  the  com- 
mencement of  a  new  and  more  consecrated  life.  And, 
if  this  be  the  case,  hen  the  sepulchre  spot  in  your 
days  will  be  the  most  blessed  of  all.  Its  joy  will  reach 
farther,  shine  clearer,  endure  longer,  than  any  belong- 
ing to  the  hours    when  your  garden  knew    no    tomb. 

Using  your  sorrow  aright  it  may  teach  you,  as  it 
has  taught  many,  how  to  say  : — 

"  O  deem  not  they  are  blest  alone 

Whose  lives  a  peaceful  tenor  keep  ; 

For  God,  who  pities  man,  hath  shown 
A  blessing  for  the  eyes  that  weep." 


244  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 


XV. 

THE  MANY  GATES.* 

Revelation  xxi:  13. 

On  the  east  three  gates ;  on  the  north  three  gates ;  on  the  south 
three  gates  J  afid  on  the  west  three  gates. 

The  Scripture  story  begins  in  a  garden  and  ends  in 
a  metropolis.  It  is  among  the  green  bowers  of  Eden 
that  it  commences  ;  it  is  within  the  shining  walls  of 
the  crowded  "  City  of  God  "  that  it  terminates.  Two 
happy,  sinless,  unclothed  dwellers  amid  the  vines  and 
flowers  and  trees  and  streams  of  Paradise,  are  the  first 
human  beings  of  whom  it  tells  us ;  but  it  shows  us,  be- 
fore its  record  closes,  a  company  "  which  no  man  can 
number,"  "clad  in  white,"  and  thronging  the  golden 
streets  of  the  "  New  Jerusalem." 

Across  the  wide  space  from  Genesis  to  the  Apoca- 
lypse, Scripture  conducts  us  in  a  devious  and  change- 
ful pathway.  Sometimes  the  narrative  flows  forward 
clear,  consecutive ;  marked  by  dates  which  we  can  cal- 
culate and  names  with  which  we  are  familiar.  But 
sometimes,  also,  there  are  greit  gaps  and  vacant  spaces 
in  the  story.  It  begins  again,  but  does  not  seem  to 
begin  just  where  it  left  o  f.  Unrecorded  intervals, 
undetailed  events,  unremembered  actors,  must    have 


*  Written  in  1875. 


SERMONS.  245 

intervened,  unnoticed  in  the  meager  outline  of  Biblical 
chronicle.  Yet,  in  spite  of  all  imperfection  of  detail, 
it  is  impossible  not  to  recognize  a  purpose  and  a  prog- 
ress. The  narrative  is  fragmentary,  it  is  true,  but  is  a 
narrative.  The  story  is  of  something  beginning,  grow- 
ing, perfecting,  consummating,  after  a  definite  and  un- 
defeated plan.  And  that  something  is  Humanity.  It 
is  the  history  of  Man,  through  the  dealings  of  God  with 
him,  of  which  the  Bible  is  the  chronicle. 

The  passage  of  which  our  text  is  a  part  brings  be- 
fore us  one  of  the  latest  scenes  of  this  wonderful  story. 
It  is  a  delineation  of  Humanity's  perfected  state.  The 
condition  of  the  redeemed  and  glorified  is  set  forth 
under  the  emblem  of  a  city, —  "the  City  of  God,"  for 
which  all  previous  conditions  of  man's  experience  have 
been  preparing  him,  and  in  the  complex  and  perfect 
realization  of  which  he  will  find  his  ultimate  felicity. 
For  we  must  not  forget,  my  hearers,  that  though  man's 
primitive  and  innocent  condition  is  set  forth  in  the 
idyllic  story  of  Eden  with  its  bowers  and  solitudes,  his 
redeemed  and  perfected  state  is  represented  as  one  of 
companionship  and  exalted  society.  There  is  a  "City" 
of  God.  The  redeemed  are  not  to  be  set  apart  from 
one  another  in  any  solitary  paradise,  however  beauti- 
ful. They  are,  rather,  to  be  coordinated  into  that  in- 
timate and  wide-reaching  relation  to  one  another,  of 
which  the  complex  and  elaborately  developed  life  of  a 
city  stands,  to  us,  as  the  completest  type.  True 
enough,  indeed,  it  is,  that  the  idea  of  a  city  such  as  has 
been  realized  by  man  on  earth  contains- much  incom- 
patible with  perfectness.  There  are  sights  and  sounds 
which  offend  the  delicate  sense.  There  are  woes  and 
crimes  and   squalors  which  pain  the  sensitive  heart. 


246  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

Nevertheless,  the  fact  remains  that  even  in  our  poor 
conceptions,  colored  necessarily  by  our  often  sad  expe- 
rience, a  great  and  beautiful  city  abides  our  highest 
type  of  matured  and  perfected  society  ;  —  a  condition 
of  human  existence  wherein  the  greatest  number  of 
welfares  can  best  be  secured ;  the  tastes  of  most  easi- 
est gratified ;  the  largest  privileges  most  readily  at- 
tained ;  most  various  activities  afforded  amplest  room. 

Now,  it  is  this  conception  of  a  city, —  a  city  glorious, 
innocent,  healthful,  perfect,  a  "City  of  God," — which 
the  Scriptures  employ  to  symbolize  to  us  the  final  con- 
dition of  redeemed  Humanity.  Hints  of  this  concep- 
tion are  dropped  all  through  the  Scriptures,  even  in 
their  older  portions.  Jerusalem  the  "  City  of  the  Great 
King  "  stood  an  emblem  of  it  to  every  devout  Israelite 
of  old.  When  he  uttered  his  prayer,  "  Who  shall  as- 
cend into  the  hill  of  the  Lord  ?  or  who  shall  stand  in 
His  holy  place  ?  "  his  thoughts  looked  beyond  that  City 
of  David  to  the  City  of  David's  King.  When  Zecha- 
riah  prophesied,  "  And  the  streets  of  the  city  shall  be 
full  of  boys  and  girls  playing  in  the  streets  thereof," 
the  restored  earthly  Jerusalem  in  which  he  conceived 
that  pleasant  sight  was  also  a  figure  of  Jerusalem  to 
come. 

But  many  and  striking  as  are  these  intimations  in 
the  Old  Testament,  they  are  still  more  numerous  and 
explicit  in  the  New.  Harmonious  with  them,  nay,  in- 
compatible with  any  interpretation  beside,  are  those 
words  of  Christ,  "  In  My  Father's  house  are  many  man- 
sions." "Many,"  various,  adapted,  numerous,  as  are 
the  dwellers  there.  "  No  continuing  city  "  here,  "  but 
we  seek  one  to  come," — that  is  the  delineation,  by  the 
writer  to  the   Hebrews,  of  the  very   purpose  in   life 


SERMONS. 


247 


which  dominated  the  Christians  to  whom  he  wrote. 
Such,  he  says,  was  the  faith  of  the  fathers,  too. 
They  "  looked  for  a  city  which  hath  foundations  "  ;  and 
they  looked  not  in  vain.  Their  fidelity  had  its  reward  : 
— "  God  is  not  ashamed  to  be  called  their  God,"  he 
says,  "And  He  hath  prepared  for  them  a  city."  This 
is  not  the  portion  of  the  fathers  of  Old  Testament  his- 
tory alone.  It  is  that  of  all  the  faithful  as  well.  To 
all  such,  wherever  they  are,  he  says  :  "  Ye  are  come 
unto  Mount  Sion,  and  unto  the  city  of  the  living  God, 
the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  and  to  an  innumerable  com- 
pany of  angels." 

Still,  undoubtedly  frequent  and  plain  as  are  these 
references  to  a  "City"  as  the  type  of  the  ultimate 
state  of  redeemed  Humanity,  it  is  to  the  Apocalypse 
that  it  is  reserved  most  elaborately  to  delineate  and 
vividly  to  emphasize  this  conception.  And  how  vividly 
and  elaborately  it  is  done !  This  whole  twenty-first 
chapter  of  Revelation,  opulent  and  magnificent  in  its 
imagery  and  language  above  almost  any  passage  of 
Scripture  beside,  is  nothing  but  a  description  of  this 
City  of  God.  And  it  is  a  description  which  does  not 
content  itself  with  general  phrases.  It  deals  with  par- 
ticulars and  minute  details.  How  the  language  labors 
to  bring  its  glory  before  us  !  There  is  not  a  "  City  " 
only, —  but  a  "great  City";  a  "holy  City";  a  City 
"lying  foursquare,"  vast,  commodious,  magnificent. 
There  is  not  "a  wall"  only, —  emblem  to  the  ancient 
mind  of  security  and  defense, —  but  a  wall  "  great  and 
high,"  towering  upward  a  "  hundred  and  forty  and  four 
cubits,"  and  built,  tier  on  tier,  on  foundations  of  most 
precious  stones.  There  are  "gates,"  but  not  three  or 
four.     "Twelve"  of   them   are  there,   and  each  gate 


248  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

"one  pearl."  Streets  are  there,  but  they  are  paved 
with  "gold."  "Light"  is  there,  but  it  is  a  glorious 
light  which  no  sunset  ever  dims.  Inhabitants  are 
there,  but  thousands  do  not  number  them, —  "nations," 
saved,  gather  in  it,  and  "kings"  "bring  their  glory 
and  honor  into  it."  Pure  and  salubrious,  too,  is  that 
City,  for  "  there  shall  in  no  wise  enter  into  it  anything 
that  defileth,  neither  whatsoever  worketh  abomination 
or  maketh  a  lie." 

But  now,  in  the  midst  of  this  glowing  symbolic 
delineation,  we  find  a  phrase  interposed  which  possibly 
we  may  have  passed  over  almost  unnoticed,  but  which, 
rightly  considered,  is,  I  think,  full  of  suggestiveness. 
From  the  general  consideration  of  the  characteristics 
of  the  heavenly  City  I  shall  turn  your  attention,  there- 
fore, to  this  special  particular.  You  will  find  it  in  the 
text :  "  On  the  east  three  gates  ;  on  the  north  three 
gates  ;  on  the  south  three  gates  ;  and  on  the  west 
three  gates."  We  have  noticed  already  that  there  are 
gates,  —  many  of  them;  many  and  splendid  in  their 
pearly  radiance.  But  why  this  mention  of  the  various- 
ness  of  their  location  .'*  Why  this  careful  particulariza- 
tion  that  they  look  northward  and  southward  and 
eastward  and  westward,  and  open  on  their  golden 
hinges  to  every  point  of  the  compass  .-•  Perhaps  some 
suggestions  lie  only  half  hidden  here  worth  our  more 
careful  considering. 

One  such  which  I  will  mention  is  a  suggestion  as  to 
the  variousness  of  men's  manner  of  approach  to  the 
heavenly  City.  The  "gates"  open  in  all  directions 
because  an  almost  infinite  variety  of  travelers,  journey- 
ing from  most  dissimilar  regions,  are  to  be  gathered 
there.     Said  our  Saviour  to  His  disciples,  whose  narrow 


SERMONS. 


249 


Jewish  conceptions  of  the  possibilities  of  salvation  for 
any  beside  Abraham's  offspring  needed  to  be  widened, 
"Other  sheep  I  have,  which  are  not  of  this  fold." 
The  Gospel  He  proclaimed  was  not  for  one  nation 
only,  but  for  the  world.  And  so,  too,  the  New  Jeru- 
salem to  which  that  Gospel  points  the  way  must  be 
accessible  to  men  of  all  languages  and  lands.  The 
gates  of  it,  which  we  are  told  are  never  "shut,"  open 
northward  and  southward  and  eastward  and  westward, 
for  out  of  all  regions  of  the  inhabited  earth  some  are 
continually  journeying  thither.  They  come  from  polar 
snows,  and  they  come  from  equatorial  plains.  They 
wear  every  garb  the  sun  in  all  his  circuit  ever  shines 
upon.  They  draw  nigh  out  of  countries  the  most 
opposite  ;  out  of  climates  the  most  contrasted ;  out  of 
languages  the  most  contrarious. 

But  it  is  not  this  geographical  variousness  of 
approach  to  the  New  Jerusalem  alone  which  the  four- 
fold aspect  of  the  heavenly  gates  suggests  to  us. 
There  is  a  moral  variousness  still  greater  than  any 
geographical  one.  The  people  who  gather  are  gathered 
not  only  out  of  unlike  regions,  but  out  of  unlike  faiths, 
ideas,  habits,  experiences.  Those  must  needs  be,  in 
many  respects,  very  different  pathways  of  approach, 
intellectually  and  morally,  which  are  traversed  to  the 
heavenly  City  by  one  who  comes  thither  out  of  African 
ignorance,  out  of  Oriental  mysticism,  out  of  Indian 
savagery,  and  out  of  European  refinement.  That 
Gospel  must  be  an  infinitely  adaptable  one  which  can 
adjust  itself  to  the  innumerably  diverse  conceptions 
and  wants  of  men  so  dissimilar  as  the  Caucasian  in  his 
<  culture  and  the  Mongolian  in  his  backwardness.  And 
to  gather  men  so  unlike  as  these,  and  a  hundred  other 


250  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

types  as  distinct  and  opposite,  in  one  heavenly  home, 
there  needs  must  be  a  vast  variety  of  approach.  The 
gates  are  not  too  many,  nor  do  they  look  in  too  many 
ways. 

Nor  are  they  too  numerous  if  we  consider  only  the 
variousness  of  men's  method  of  approach,  even  in  the 
same  land  and  in  the  very  midst  of  a  Christian  com- 
munity. How  unlike,  after  all,  are  the  dwellers  who 
live  door  to  door  in  a  city  like  this,  or  sit  side  by  side 
in  this  sanctuary.  What  diverse  dispositions,  inclina- 
tions, experiences,  characters.  How  dissimilar  are  the 
motives  which  constantly  actuate  them  ;  the  arguments 
which  are  likely  to  have  weight  with  them  ;  the  moral 
actions  they  perform  !  And  in  leading  men  and  women 
so  variously  constituted  to  the  heavenly  Jerusalem  the 
Spirit  of  God  conducts  them  in  most  diverse  ways. 
Here  is  one  who  arrives  thither  through  the  throes 
and  agonies  of  an  experience  as  stormy  as  that  of 
Luther  or  of  Paul.  He  is  struck  down  by  a  conviction 
of  sin  heavy  as  that  which  smote  the  great  Apostle 
from  his  charger  on  his  bloody  errand  to  Damascus. 
Here  is  another  whose  Christian  experience  is  like  that 
of  Fenelon  or  John.  Almost  natural  it  seemed  for  this 
man,  when  he  heard  the  words,  "  Behold  the  Lamb  of 
God  !  "  to  turn  and  follow  Him.  Here  are  those  on 
whom  in  their  journey  Zionward  the  sun  always  seems 
to  smile.  Their  worldly  business  prospers ;  their  fami- 
lies walk  unbroken  by  their  side  ;  health  remains  stead- 
fast, and  temptations  appear  never  to  assail.  Others 
come,  but  it  is  always  under  a  stormy  sky.  Adversity 
breaks  their  strength.  They  walk  among  graves. 
They  almost  reckon  their  progress  by  the  tombstones  * 
of  those  they  love.     More  and  more  alone  as  they  go 


SERMONS. 


251 


forward  ;  heavier  and  heavier  weighted  with  suffering 
and  with  care,  they  arrive  at  last  spent  and  buffeted, 
like  a  shipwrecked  sailor  smitten  by  a  thousand  seas, 
stripped  and  exhausted  at  the  heavenly  refuge.  Ah  ! 
the  gates  are  not  too  many,  even  for  those  who  are  to 
go  in  from  this  congregation !  Well  is  it  that  they  open 
northward  and  eastward  and  southward  and  westward ; 
for  various  indeed  are  men's  methods  of  approach. 

Another  suggestion  of  this  opposite-looking  frontage 
of  the  heavenly  gates  is  the  unexpectedness  of  the 
arrival  of  many  there.  As  many  of  the  travelers  to 
the  City  were  on  their  way  thither  they  often  seemed 
to  be  journeying  in  different  directions.  Their  path- 
ways sometimes  ran  not  parallel,  but  crosswise  and 
even  in  contrary  courses,  according  as  each  was  led  by 
the  good  Spirit  which  guided  him  to  one  or  another  of 
the  opposite  gates.  And  it  would  not  be  strange  if, 
while  they  thus  crossed  and  traversed  one  another's 
way,  doubt  should  arise  and  even  controversy  as  to  the 
probability  of  one  another's  arrival. 

And  this  possibility  of  a  misunderstanding  and  dis 
pute  we  know  has  arisen.  We  know  true  pilgrims 
heavenward  have  often  fallen  out  by  the  way.  They 
have  impeached  one  another's  chance  of  entrance. 
They  have  denied  that  the  road  in  which  some  of  their 
fellow  travelers  were  earnestly  going  led  there  at  all. 
They  have  insisted  that  the  only  entrance  was  the 
particular  gate  that  they  were  going  through.  How 
bitter  and  melancholy  have  been  the  controversies  of 
those  who  have  all  been  going  heavenward !  Some- 
times the  road  insisted  on  has  been  the  road  of  a 
particular  church  organization.  Only  members  of  that 
special  fellowship  could  hope  to  have  any  admission  to 


252  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

the  New  Jerusalem.  Salv^ation  out  of  that  church  was 
impossible.  Sometimes  the  prescribed  pathway  has 
been  a  particular  form  of  some  Christian  ordinance. 
A  pilgrim  to  Zion  must,  for  example,  be  perfectly- 
immersed,  or  his  title  to  a  true  baptism  in  the  name  of 
the  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  would  be  unfavor- 
ably scrutinized  at  the  heavenly  gate.  Sometimes  a 
narrow  and  local  type  of  Christian  experience  has  been 
regarded  as  the  only  road  ;  as  when  one  section  of  our 
New  England  theologians  taught  the  doctrine  that  the 
only  valid  evidence  of  a  probability  of  being  saved  was 
a  willingness  to  be  lost. 

How  reassuring,  in  view  of  an  almost  interminable 
catalogue  of  controversies  like  these,  to  remember  the 
many  and  the  opposite-looking  gates  of  the  heavenly 
City !  How  comforting  to  know  that  not  one  door, 
but  many  doors  lead  thither  ! 

What  a  suggestion  this  affords  of  the  surprises 
which  will  await  those  who  finally  enter :  the  unex- 
pectedness to  multitudes  of  the  arrival  of  multitudes 
beside.  Coming  in  through  their  different  gates,  and 
meeting  on  the  golden-floored  space  before  the  central 
throne,  how  will  they  in  a  manner  wonder  at  one 
another  as  being  alike  there !  Godly  Romanists  who 
on  earth  would  have  piously  burned  equally  godly  Pro- 
testants, greeting  one  another  in  that  common  home ! 
Arminians  and  Calvinists,  Quakers  and  Presbyterians, 
Puritans  and  the  Anglicans  who  drove  them  out,  surely 
something  like  a  smile  will  be  on  some  of  their  faces, 
remembering  the  arguments  against  one  another's 
admission  which  they  had  sometimes  used !  Toplady 
and  Wesley,  —  how  they  fought  in  their  earthly  days  ! 
But  they  will  both  be  there.     Erasmus  and  Luther, — 


SERMONS. 


253 


what  bitter  words  the  eager  reformer  uttered  of  his 
scholastic  and  temporizing  compeer.  Yet  Erasmus 
did  a  good  work,  and  we  trust  has  entered  into  a  good 
reward.  Calvin  and  Servetus,  —  Calvin  conscientiously 
furthered  that  trial  which  ended  in  burning  Servetus 
alive.  But  yet,  notwithstanding  that  I  am  myself  a 
Calvinist,  and  fully  believe  that  in  the  doctrinal  warfare 
he  was  waging  Calvin  was  in  the  right,  I  still  see  no 
sufficient  reason  to  doubt  that  when  the  consumed 
body  of  the  restless,  dogmatic,  imprudent  Servetus  was 
reduced  to  ashes  there  was  one  Christian  less  in  the 
world,  or  that  up  from  those  poor  charred  relics  of 
violence  the  resurrection  morning  will  bring  another 
glorified  form  to  meet  Calvin's  in  the  New  Jerusalem. 

Nay,  these  surprises  will  perhaps  be  wider  still  in 
their  reach.  Out  of  pagan  lands,  where  tidings  of  the 
Gospel  never  went,  may  come  sheep  of  the  true  fold, 
led  by  ways  we  know  not,  and  spiritually  prepared  to 
greet  the  true  Light  of  Life  whenever  it  should  arise. 
Saved,  not  indeed  without  Christ ;  but  saved  through 
a  working  of  the  Divine  Spirit  fitting  them  to  the 
efficacies  of  an  atonement  as  yet  unknown. 

And,  —  perhaps  still  harder  for  us  to  admit,  —  there 
will  be  surprises  from  among  ourselves.  We  shall,  if 
we  ourselves  ever  enter  that  City,  be  astonished  to 
meet  some  whom  we  never  expected  to  see  there. 
Men  whose  type  of  religious  life  we  discredited  because 
we  did  not  understand  it.  Some  whom  we  denounced, 
perhaps,  because  they  followed  not  with  us,  but  who 
followed  God  through  some  one  of  the  City's  many 
doors ;  astonished  themselves,  perhaps,  to  find  them- 
selves within. 

Surprises,  too,  doubtless,  there  will  be  of  another 


254  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

kind.  Unexpected  vacancies  of  places  we  thought 
certain  to  be  filled.  People  looked  for,  but  not  found. 
Men  who  professed  the  Gospel,  but  did  not  practice 
the  Gospel ;  who  said,  "Lord,  Lord,"  but  never  came 
within  the  gate. 

A  further  suggestion  of  this  many-doored  approach 
to  the  New  Jerusalem  of  heaven  is  the  moral  unity 
there  is,  —  notwithstanding  much  outward  variousness, 
—  in  all  true  pilgrims  Zionward.  There  is,  as  has 
been  plainly  indicated,  a  great  deal  of  superficial  dis- 
similarity in  men's  method  of  approach  to  the  heavenly 
City.  Still,  the  getting  there  is  no  accident.  It  is 
not  a  mere  matter  of  happen  so.  Men  do  not  stumble 
into  heaven  by  chance.  They  do  sometimes  fall,  un- 
considering,  on  bits  of  earthly  good  fortune,  —  or  what 
they  call  so,  —  into  property  or  reputation  or  office. 
But  they  do  not  get  into  heaven  in  that  way.  There 
are,  underneath  whatever  variousness  of  detail,  certain 
unchangeable  identities  which  mark  alike  the  pro- 
cedures and  the  characters  of  a\l  those  who  ever 
arrive  there.  There  are  certain  distinct  moral  traits 
which  belong  to  them  ;  a  temper  of  the  spirit,  a  tone 
of  the  feelings,  an  aim  of  the  life,  which  appertains  to 
every  one.  So  it  has  been  always  in  the  journeyers 
Zionward.  The  eleven  men  of  the  Apostolic  Company 
were  most  dissimilar  men,  yet  whoever  in  all  Jerusalem 
failed  to  see  that  they  belonged  together  ?  The  great 
guides  of  Christian  history,  how  diverse  they  have 
been  !  Language  has  no  terms  of  discrimination  which 
are  not  all  needed  to  set  forth  the  unlikeness  in  occu- 
pation, speech,  and  taste,  of  the  leaders  of  the  grand 
pilgrim  companies  of  every  land  and  age. 

Anthony  lives  a  hermit  in  the  desert.     Athanasius 


SERMONS. 


255 


sways  the  decisions  of  the  Nicene  Council  and  holds 
the  turbulent  bishopric  of  Alexandria.  Ulfilas  goes  a 
missionary  to  the  Goths  and  invents  an  alphabet  to 
give  them  the  Bible.  Columba  carries  the  Gospel  to 
Scotland.  Bernhard  and  Francis  and  Thomas  Aquinas 
each  labors  in  his  several  way  to  imitate  the  life  of 
Christ  and  to  set  forth  His  truth  tojnen.  Arnold  of 
Brescia  and  John  Huss  try  to  purify  a  corrupted 
Church  and  are  burned  for  their  efforts.  Luther, 
more  successful,  enters  into  their  labors,  and  a  Refor- 
mation comes.  Laboring  in  it  are  men  as  wide  apart 
in  character  and  history  as  Cranmer  and  Calvin  and 
Melanchthon  and  Zwingli.  Rough  John  Knox  follows 
in  this  line,  and  gentle  Richard  Hooker  also.  And  so 
the  bright  succession  runs,  down  through  Pascal  and 
Milton  and  Butler  and  Fenelon  and  Robinson  and 
Wesley  to  Edwards  and  Payson  of  our  own  land  and 
day. 

Now  here,  surely,  are  great  distinctions.  But  the 
unity  is  greater  than  the  distinctions.  So  in  the 
Jerusalem  pilgrims  it  is  ever.  Unity  is  a  matter  of 
the  heart ;  and  it  lives  even  against  the  actions  of  the 
hand. 

And  therefore  there  are  certain  moral  traits  which 
make  the  heavenly  journeyers  really  one.  They  are 
men  who  while  living  in  the  present  state  are  sedu- 
lously cultivating  the  characteristic  qualities  of  the 
life  which  is  to  come.  They  are  men  who,  going  up 
and  down  in  this  earthly  scene,  garner  up  with  infinite 
relish  and  care  whatever  has  the  likeness  of  the  City 
to  which  they  are  going.  Are  purity,  righteousness, 
benevolence,  piety,  traits  of  that  heavenly  home  .-* 
These  are  the  things  they  hunger  for  here.     Do  the 


256  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

inhabitants  of  the  New  Jerusalem  abhor  that  which  is 
evil  and  cleave  to  that  which  is  good  ?  So  do  they. 
Are  the  dwellers  within  the  City's  walls  loyal  to  the 
City's  King,  and  grateful  above  words  to  Him  who 
purchased  their  entrance  there  by  His  sufferings  ? 
So  are  these  grateful  and  loyal  also.  Do  the  inhabit- 
ants of  that  City,  count  it  their  highest  privilege  to  be 
employed  in  their  Lord's  service  .-'  These,  too,  living 
here,  are  eager  to  serve  Him  also,  and  attentive  to  His 
commands.  O  !  there  is  no  mystery  about  their  get- 
ting into  the  City  !  Their  faces  have  been  looking 
that  way  a  great  while.  They  have  made  it  a  hope  and 
a  purpose  to  be  there.  Repentant,  humble,  obedient, 
trusting,  they  are  now  preparing  for  a  heavenly  habita- 
tion. 

I  mention  as  a  final  suggestion  of  the  four-fronted 
gateways  of  the  heavenly  City,  the  amplitude  of  en- 
trance offered  to  all  who  will  make  the  effort  to  enter. 

"Twelve  gates" — facing,  some  of  them,  every 
quarter  where  men  can  dwell.  "  Twelve  gates  " — 
looking  off  into  all  the  regions  where  sinning  humanity 
can  wander  ;  and  always,  from  every  place  where  any 
repenting  one  "  comes  to  himself,"  and  longs  to  go  to 
his  Father's  house,  a  straight  way  thither  and  an  open 
door.  None  necessarily  excluded  !  None  shut  out  for 
want  of  entrance-way  provided !  Doors  many  enough, 
and  wide  enough,  and  adjacent  enough  for  all.  And 
do  not,  my  dear  hearers,  in  the  acknowledgment  of 
this  general  amplitude  of  the  entrance-way  provided, 
forget  your  own  case.  A  way  opens  over  against  each 
one  of  you.  A  way  leads  just  from  where  you  stand 
intellectually,  morally,  socially,  experimentally,  right 
into  the  City's  central  square. 


SERMONS. 


257 


Ah !  my  hearers,  are  you  all  entering  ?  Are  your 
faces  set  toward  that  City  as  your  home  ?  Do  you 
bear  the  marks  of  pilgrims  Zionward  ?  Are  you  living 
so  that  God  is  "not  ashamed  to  be  called"  your 
"God";  so  that  he  cannot  do  otherwise  than  be  "pre- 
paring for  you  a  city"  ? 

Numbered,  or  yet  unnumbered,  of  the  pilgrim  fel- 
lowship, walk  henceforward  only  in  the  heavenly  path- 
way. Set  your  faces  Zionward  !  So  living  we  shall 
enter  where  He  is.  So  living  some  one  of  the  City's 
gates  will  open  to  us.  Suddenly,  or  on  slow  hinges, 
long-awaited,  turning,  it  will  open  a  way  for  us  into 
the  City  of  God,  in  the  Light  of  the  Lamb. 

In  this  faith  let  us  labor  and  wait. 


17 


258  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D, 


XVI. 

CHRIST   THE    LIGHT    OF    HEAVEN.* 

Revelation  xxi  :  23. 
And  the  Lamb   is   the   Light  thereof. 

It  is  useless  for  us  to  attempt  to  read  this  twenty- 
first  chapter  of  the  Revelation,  with  the  eye  of  the 
map-making  geographer  or  of  the  date-fixing  chro- 
nologist.  The  Bible  is  a  very  sober  book,  but  it  takes 
us  sometimes  in  tremendous  flights,  and  lands  us  in 
regions  where  our  quadrants  and  compasses  are  of 
little  service.  This  passage  before  us  is  an  example. 
No  one  need  try  to  read  it  who  insists  on  taking  his 
surveyor's  chain  along  with  him  ;  or  who  undertakes  to 
settle  the  period  of  every  event  by  the  Gregorian 
calendar. 

For  the  strong  wing  of  Inspiration  in  this  passage 
beats  an  atmosphere  we  have  none  of  us  ever  yet 
breathed.  It  bears  us  into  realms  no  eye  of  man  has 
yet  looked  upon.  It  takes  us  beyond  time,  as  time  is 
reckoned  in  these  earthly  years  :  beyond  death, 
beyond  the  resurrection,  beyond  the  judgment.  "The 
old  heavens,"  to  which  we  have  looked  up,  as  the 
very  emblem  of  steadfastness,  and  the  old  earth  on 
which   we  have  walked   and    built,  are  passed  away; 


*  Written  in  1882. 


SERMONS. 


259 


and  the  great  rolling  "sea"  across  which  have  gone 
the  navies  of  commerce  and  of  war,  is  "  no  more." 
There  is  a  "  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth,"  but  it  must 
be  marvelously  different  from  this  ;  for  there  is  "  no 
night  there";  and  the  inhabitants  "hunger  no  more, 
neither  thirst  any  more ;  neither  shall  the  sun  light  on 
them,  nor  any  heat."  There  is  "a  City "  there;  but 
it  is  a  City  where  no  one  dies  ;  where  no  one  pines  in 
pain  ;   where  crying  is  unknown. 

Marvelous  too,  unlike  anything  we  have  beheld,  is 
that  City's  aspect.  The  stones  we  gather  here  to 
wear  in  necklace  and  ring, —  jewels  of  brilliance  and 
rarity, —  are  that  City's  foundation  walls.  The  pearl 
we  use  as  costly  mounting  for  ornaments  of  luxury  is 
the  fabric  of  its  twelve-fold  gates.  The  gold  we  hoard 
as  the  symbol  of  value,  or  carefully  work  into  objects 
of  most  coveted  art,  is  the  very  pavement  of  its  streets. 

Obviously  we  have  got  out  of  the  region  of  broker's- 
bonds,  and  land-speculator's  measurements,  and  funeral 
processions,  and  sick-beds  and  alms-houses  and  police 
regulations,  and  of  about  everything  with  which  we 
are  familiar.  The  sober  volume  of  our  devotions 
is  almost  delirious  in  its  rhapsodies.  We  are  utterly 
at  a  loss  to  run  the  line  between  what  we  call  "  real- 
ity "  and  "unreality,"  the  literal  and  the  emblematic, 
here.  To  say  that  all  this  vision  of  orient  streets  and 
opalescent  walls,  and  sunless  skies,  and  days  without 
night,  is  actual  matter-of-fact  description,  may,  per- 
haps, be  absurdity  ;  but  to  say  that  it  is  symbol  and 
metaphor  only,  may  be  absurdity  no  less.  The 
literalistic  spirit  which  goes  through  these  pages  in 
the  temper  of  an  appraiser  of  an  estate  or  auctioneer 
of  a  choice  lot  of  jewelry,  may  be,  after  all,  very  little 


26o  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

more  out  of  the  way  than  the  spirit  which  says : 
"  Why  this  is  figure  and  image,  and  nothing 
more ! "  I'd  as  soon  take  my  chances  of  truth 
and  of  happiness,  too,  with  the  man  who  expects  to 
drink  from  a  literal  "  river  "  "  proceeding  out  of  the 
throne  of  God,"  and  to  eat  of  the  fruit  of  a  literal 
"tree  of  life"  growing  upon  its  banks;  as  to  side 
with  the  so-called  spiritualizing  interpreter  who  sub- 
limates the  "  City  of  God  "  into  the  conception  of 
some  bodiless  and  vaporlike  society  of  incorporeal 
beings  ;  or  who  makes  the  "  wiping  away  of  tears 
from  the  eyes,"  and  the  "tabernacling  of  God  with 
men,"  only  a  condition  of  the  soul. 

And  so  of  this  vivid  and  wonderful  phrase  of  our 
text  —  telling  of  the  temple  of  the  New  Jerusalem, 
unto  which  the  nations  of  the  saved  shall  gather, — 
"  the  Lamb  is  the  light  thereof."  I  do  not  dare  to  say 
that  is  symbol  and  type  alone.  I  read  in  those  words, 
"the  glory  of  God  did  lighten  it,"  an  obvious  refer- 
ence, not  to  the  abstract  truth  that  God  is  glorious 
everywhere,  but  to  "the  glory,"  the  distinctive  glory, 
the  Shechinah  of  His  visible  presence,  when  the 
Temple  on  Zion's  Hill  was  flooded  and  ablaze  with  the 
light  of  His  entrance  there.  I  do  not  know,  nor  does 
any  one  know,  but  that  in  the  New  Jerusalem  there 
may  shine  and  burn  before  all  gazing  eyes,  a  like 
symbol  of  the  Ineffable  Presence  ;  and  that  this  may  be 
what  is  expressed,  or  one  of  the  things  which  is  ex- 
pressed, when  it  is  said  :  "  And  the  Lamb  is  the  light 
thereof." 

It  will  be  seen,  therefore,  that  I  have  no  disposi- 
tion to  deny  or  even  to  diminish  whatever  of  literal 
significance   may   be    set  before    us    in    this   phrase : 


SERMONS.  261 

"And  the  Lamb  is  the  light  thereof,"  if, —  instead  of 
attempting  any  further  to  delineate  what  is  confess- 
edly so  entirely  a  matter  of  Revelation  alone, —  I  turn 
your  attention  now  to  a  moral  truthfulness  of  this 
Scripture  phrase,  which  is,  in  any  aspect  of  it,  of 
exceeding  preciousness.  "  And  the  Lamb  is  the 
light  thereof."  Christ  the  Light  of  Heaven  ;  that  is 
a  truth  which,  whatever  else  this  Scripture  expresses, 
is  certainly  expressed  in  it  in  the  most  vivid  and 
emphatic  manner. 

We  are  accustomed  to  speak  of  whatever  makes 
any  portion  of  our  life  pleasant  to  us,  as  its  light. 
The  light  of  our  childhood,  was  it  not  for  most  of  us, 
the  face  of  the  dear  mother  whose  love  and  patience 
was  the  very  sunshine  in  which  we  grew  and  by  which 
alone  we  seemed  to  live  .-*  The  light  of  our  home  ;  was  it 
not  the  wife  or  the  child  whose  presence  there  made  all 
things  radiant,  and  whose  departure  from  us  cast  all 
things  into  cloudiness  and  eclipse .''  The  light  on 
some  pathway  of  labor,  was  it  not  the  great  hope  of  an 
honorable  and  useful  success  ;  the  zeal  of  a  self-deny- 
ing consecration  to  another's  good,  which  shone  like  a 
sunbeam  on  every  step  of  that  pathway,  however  dusty 
and  long .? 

Ah,  yes !  we  all  know  perfectly,  by  a  manifold 
variety  of  familiar  experiences,  what  the  Lamp  of 
any  abode,  the  Light  of  any  portion  of  life  is ! 

And  putting  this  utterance  of  Revelation  on  the 
very  lowest  footing  on  which  it  can  stand,  it  sets  forth 
this  fact,  surely,  that  the  brightness  and  blessedness 
of  heaven  is  the  presence  and  manifestation  of  Christ. 
He  is  the  centre  of  its  pleasantness:  "The  lamp 
thereof  is  the  Lamb." 


262  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

Now,  my  friends,  although  the  full  realization  of  this 
fact  is  something  we  shall  have  to  wait  for  till  we  get 
over  there,  yet  we  have  not  to  get  there  to  know 
something  of  it.  There  are  things  already  known 
which  may  teach  us  that  it  must  be  so.  Far  on  this 
side  of  the  shining  walls  and  the  doors  of  pearl, — 
while  yet  we  -tread  this  old  earth  which  bears  so  many 
a  mark  of  sin  and  suffering, —  we  may  begin  to  see, 
and  see  very  clearly,  too,  that  in  that  City  to  which 
we  go,  "the  Lamb  is  the  light  thereof." 

I  ask  you  to  notice  that  one  thing  which  gives  us 
this  assurance,  even  apart  from  this  sweet  declaration 
of  Holy  Writ,  is  the  fact  that  of  about  all  of  whatever 
is  best  we  see  around  us  in  the  world  even  now,  it  may 
be  said,  "the  Lamp  thereof  is  the  Lamb." 

Take  for  example  the  Christian  Church.  Probably 
we  should  all  agree  that  one  of  the  most  benign  insti- 
tutions, regarded  on  the  very  lowest  theory  of  its  ori- 
gin or  its  authority,  which  has  ever  existed  among 
men,  is  the  institution  known  as  the  Church.  It  is  a 
confederacy  existing  in  many  lands  and  in  many 
forms.  In  outward  aspect,  and,  to  a  considerable 
extent,  in  its  inward  ordering  and  action,  it  is  various 
and  diverse.  What  a  history  it  has  been,  the  history 
of  the  Christian  Church  !  The  Christian  Church  was 
twelve  men  sitting  round  a  table  in  an  upper  chamber. 
The  Christian  Church  was  three  thousand  men  pricked 
to  the  heart,  and  baptized  on  the  day  of  Pentecost. 
The  Church  was  the  congregation  and  elders  at  Jeru- 
salem. The  Church  was  the  household  of  Priscilla  and 
Aquila  at  Rome.  The  Church  hid  itself  in  subterranean 
catacombs ;  the  Church  ruled  from  the  throne  of  the 
Caesars  ;  the  Church    said,  "  Lord  teach   us  to   pray," 


SERMONS.  263 

and  learned,  like  a  child,  the  formula  :  "  Our  Father 
which  art  in  heaven  "  :  but,  taught  also  of  the  Spirit, 
the  Church  framed  the  Apostles'  Creed,  and  wrote  it 
in  a  hundred  languages,  and  lifted  up  its  voice  in  the 
majestic  confessions  of  Nicaea,  and  Chalcedon,  and 
Trent,  and  Augsburg,  and  Heidelberg,  and  Dort,  and 
Westminster,  and  Savoy.  The  Church  worshiped 
once  in  the  house  of  a  soldier  at  Caesarea  ;  it  wor- 
shiped often  in  caves  and  dens  of  the  earth  ;  it  wor- 
ships still  in  little  cabins  of  turf  or  logs  on  frontier 
missionary  outposts  of  our  own  and  of  other  lands  ; 
but  it  worships  also,  and  has  for  century  after  century, 
in  the  costliest  edifices  which  human  hands  have  ever 
built ;  and  the  architectural  habitations  of  its  prayers 
have  been  made  the  chief  wonders  of  the  world. 

Watching  in  behalf  of  individual  souls,  the  Church 
has  reproved  the  erring,  comforted  the  sorrowing, 
spoken  peace  to  the  penitent,  cheered  the  departing, 
buried  the  dead.  Rising  to  the  height  of  her  collect- 
ive charge,  the  Church  has  instituted  missions  for  the 
christianization  of  nations,  and  put  the  sayings  of  the 
prophet  of  Nazareth  into  the  mother-speech  of  almost 
every  tribe  that  wears  the  shape  of  man.  How  various; 
how  diverse  ;  how  multiform  a  thing,  the  Christian 
Church  ! 

But  of  it  all,  what  has  been  the  Light  ?  Whether 
looked  at  in  the  narrowest  arena  of  its  being, —  as  in 
the  twelve  of  the  upper  chamber,  or  the  "  two  or  three  " 
of  the  fulfilled  promise  met  together  in  some  Scotch 
cave  of  the  covenanters  or  mining  camp  of  Dakota ; 
or  regarded  in  the  hour  of  some  great  jubilee  when  the 
vast  cathedral  trembles  with  Christmas  or  with  Easter 
strains,  and  the  crowded  aisles  take  up  the  burden  of 


264  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

some  universal  confession  of  faith  :  "  I  believe  in 
Jesus  Christ,  and  in  the  Holy  Ghost ;  the  Holy  Cath- 
olic Church ;  the  Communion  of  Saints  ;  the  forgive- 
ness of  sins  ;  the  resurrection  of  the  body,  and  life 
everlasting";  —  in  either  case  what,  what  alone,  and 
what  equally,  is  the  light  thereof  ?  The  light  of  it  is 
the  Lamb  !  It  is  just  the  realized  presence  and  power 
of  the  Christ  of  human  redemption,  which  gives  all  the 
joy,  nay,  all  the  significance,  to  the  whole.  Take  Him 
away  and  the  light  has  fled.  The  Church,  with  all  its 
ministers,  creeds,  and  buildings,  is  but  the  lantern 
through  which  He  shines.  Take  out  the  lamp,  which 
is  the  Christ,  and  you  have  left  only  a  dull  framework, 
whose  use  has  utterly  departed.  Not  a  soul  of  man 
could  such  a  vacated  lantern  guide  amid  the  bogs  and 
pitfalls  of  this  sinning  world.  Not  a  glint  across  the 
dark  river,  except,  within,  there  shines  the  Light  of  the 
Lamb. 

When  we  speak,  therefore,  of  the  Church,  with 
reverence  for  its  history  and  gratitude  for  its  work, — 
and  well  may  we  speak  of  it  thus, —  let  us  remember 
always,  that  what  makes  it  thus  an  object  of  love  and 
loyalty  is  the  Christ  who  is  its  light.  From  Him 
comes  its  value.  All  its  winsomeness  and  precious- 
ness  is  His  own.     The  lamp  of  it  is  the  Lamb. 

Similarly  is  it, —  though  I  have  not  time  to  draw  the 
matter  out  in  any  detail, —  in  respect  to  that  whole 
grand  movement  pre-eminently  characteristic  of  our 
age  of  the  world,  which  expresses  itself  in  the  mani- 
fold forms  of  organized  philanthropy.  This  might 
well  be  called  the  Hospital  period  of  mankind,  or  the 
Orphan  Asylum  period,  or  the  Emancipation  period, 
or  the  Free  Education  period,  or  the  Compassion-for- 


SERMONS.  265 

the-Poor  period,  were  it  not  that  no  single  name,  how- 
ever comprehensive,  can  express  all  the  various  aspects 
of  its  many-handed  philanthropy.  We  live  in  a  time, 
brightened,  as  no  previous  time  the  world  has  known 
has  ever  been  brightened,  by  the  zealous  and  combined 
endeavors  of  thousands  to  lessen  human  woe  and  to 
enlarge  human  welfare.  This  is  the  Lamp  of  this  age. 
The  very  Light  of  the  period  in  which  we  live,'  is  this 
benigfn  and  radiant  feature  of  it.  It  is  not  that  this  is 
the  age  of  railroads,  and  telegraphs,  and  electric  lights, 
and  of  floating  palaces  that  throb  from  shore  to  shore, 
with  almost  the  regularity  of  pendulum  beats,  across 
the  Atlantic  seas,  that  is  the  most  eminent  distinction  of 
our  time.  That  primal  distinction  is  that  it  is  an  age 
of  organized  philanthropy. 

But  of  this  feature  of  our  time, —  the  most  lovely 
thing  in  it, —  what  is  the  central  light  ?  Of  this  bright- 
ness what  is  the  kindling  flame  ?  The  figure  of  Him 
who  walked  Galilee's  ways  comforting  the  troubled, 
healing  the  sick,  and  opening  the  eyes  of  the  blind,  is 
again  passing  before  us.  In  the  person  of  those  whom 
His  example  inspires,  He  is  with  us  in  a  new  appear- 
ing. Of  all  these  manifold  manifestations  of  human 
brotherliness,  and  Christ-like  sympathy  of  man  with 
man,  it  is  only  the  literal  truth  to  say  :  "  The  Lamb  is 
the  light  thereof." 

But,  turning  from  these  outward  matters,  I  ask  you 
to  notice  a  more  inward  one,  which  shows  even  more 
plainly  still  how  it  can  be,  nay,  how  it  must  be,  that 
Christ  is  the  Light  of  Heaven.  The  thing  which 
teaches  us  this  fact  is  this  :  —  Christ  is  the  Light  of 
whatever  is  best  in  personal  experience. 

The  best  experiences  of  these  personal  lives  of  ours, — 


266  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

what  are  they  ?  I  am  not  about  to  disparage,  my 
friends,  those  great  interests  of  our  human  histories 
which  fill  so  large  a  place  in  the  lives  of  each  one  of 
us,  and  which  relate  to  the  successes,  the  hopes,  the 
joys,  and  the  gains  of  this  busy  world.  Not  one  word 
of  depreciation  am  I  to  speak  of  the  pleasantness  of 
consciously  merited  applause  ;  of  the  satisfaction  of 
honestly  acquired  wealth  ;  of  the  delight  of  realized 
ambition ;  or  the  zest  of  large  and  scholarlike  intelli- 
gence. Not  a  word  in  depreciation  of  youth's  jocund 
hours  of  buoyant  health,  and  eager  anticipation.  Es- 
pecially, not  a  word  do  I  suggest  in  derogation  of  those 
best  experiences  o  life,  which  grow  out  of  the  sacred 
relationship  of  home,  —  the  love  of  parents  ;  the  sweet 
companionship  of  brothers  and  sisters ;  the  unity  of 
marriage ;  the  mysterious  wonder  of  fatherhood  and 
motherhood  ;  the  love  and  watch  of  infancy  ;  the  joy 
and  care  of  lives  that  would  not  have  been  but  for 
your  own. 

Of  all  these  experiences,  which  reach  deep  into  the 
soul,  and  which, —  some  of  them, —  take  hold  on  about 
the  best  there  is  of  us,  too,  I  have  nothing  to  say,  but 
in  recognition  of  the  reality  of  them  all,  and  of  the  pro- 
found significance  and  worthiness  of  many  of  them  as 
well.  How  close  to  us  do  they  some  of  them  come ! 
Into  what  depths  of  intensest  emotion  do  they  lead  us 
often !  A  man  who  has  had  the  blessing  of  an  hon- 
ored father  and  a  gentle  mother  ;  who  has  had  a  loving 
wife  and  filial  children  ;  who  has  had  a  reasonable 
share  of  success  in  affairs,  and  is  able,  intelligently,  to 
read  the  books  of  Nature  and  of  Man,  has  tasted  about 
as  sweet  a  cup  as  this  world  can  offer  ;  and,  if  having 
them,  he  has  lost  them,  about  as  bitter. 


SERMONS.  267 

But  close,  keen,  deep,  and  sweet  as  any  of  these 
experiences  are,  sweeter,  deeper,  keener,  closer  to  the 
soul,  is  another  experience  possible  to  all,  and  actual 
to  thousands.  It  is  the  experience  of  Christ's  forgiv- 
ing love.  It  is  the  assurance  which  comes  to  a  soul 
convinced  of  sin,  that  its  sin  is  washed  away  ;  the  con- 
fidence that  comes  to  a  soul  filled  with  the  sense  of 
need,  that  all  its  needs  can  be  supplied  ;  the  gladness  of 
a  friendless  spirit  that  it  has  a  Friend  who  will  forsake 
it  never ;  the  peace  of  one  harassed  by  burdened 
memory  and  foreboding  anticipation,  at  rest,  now,  in  a 
Saviour's  embrace. 

Ah,  yes  !  we  touch  an  experience  here,  which  makes 
all  others  comparatively  of  small  scope  and  importance. 
The  realization  of  Christ  as  a  personal  possession  and 
an  eternal  Life  in  the  soul,  is  a  Light  by  which  all  else 
grows  dim.  When  this  Light  shines  there  is  not  much 
which  can  be  dark.  If  the  Lamp  of  one's  life,  as  he 
journeys  onward,  is  the  Lamb,  he  may  go  through  a 
very  darksome  pathway,  and  yet  keep  a  firm  and 
forward-looking  road.  The  presence  of  Christ  can 
dispense  with  a  great  part  of  what  the  world  calls 
"needful "  beside.  If  He  is  in  the  soul,  He  makes  up 
for  a  hundred  losses  otherwise  hard  to  bear.  Sick- 
ness is  less  difficult  to  endure,  bereavement  is  easier 
sustained,  loss  of  property  or  of  position  is  not  so  bit- 
ter a  stroke,  age  and  decrepitude  not  so  forlorn  and 
sad,  if  the  Light  in  which  the  soul  sits  and  waits  is 
the  Light  of  Christ's  presence.  There  is  a  true  sense 
even  here  that  there  is  "  no  need  of  the  sun,  neither  of 
the  moon "  to  lighten  such  a  life.  The  sun  of  this 
world's  prosperity  may  "be  darkened"  and  the  moon 
of  earthly  comforts  may  not  "  give  her  light,"  and  the 


268  REVERKND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

very  "  stars  "  of  things  familiar  and  seeming  necessary, 
may  "  be  shaken,"  but  substantial  quietude  and  wel- 
fare cannot  be  taken  away  from  the  life,  when  the 
Lamb  is  the  Light  thereof. 

Now,  my  friends,  if  these  things  are  true, —  and 
that  they  are  true  is  witnessed  to  by  the  experience  of 
some  of  you  before  me, —  if  these  things  are  true  of  this 
realm  of  the  temporal,  where  we  now  dwell,  so  far  off 
from  the  heaven  where  He  dwells,  how  certainly  and 
in  how  much  fuller  a  measure  must  they  be  true  of 
that  place  where  He  gathers  His  own,  in  His  very 
presence,  and  where  they  see  Him  face  to  face.  If 
now,  and  in  this  alien  clime,  Christ  can  be  so  much  the 
Lamp  of  one's  being,  not  strange  is  it  that  there  they 
have  "  no  need  of  the  sun,  neither  of  the  moon,  to 
lighten  it,"  for  the  "  glory  of  God  "  is  its  brightness, 
"  and  the  Lamb  is  the  Light  thereof."  Whatever  else 
there  may  be  there  of  things  answering  to  the  Apos- 
tle's vision  of  the  golden  floors,  and  the  pearly  gates, 
and  the  walls  of  precious  stones,  and  the  river  from 
out  the  throne,  and  the  tree  of  life  with  its  healing 
leaves,  and  the  eyes  in  which  there  are  no  tears,  and 
the  day  which  has  no  night,  sure  are  we  that  the  cen- 
tral fact  of  that  home  of  blessedness  is  the  realized 
presence  and  friendship  of  Christ  ;  and  that  the  best 
thing  we  can  possibly  know  of  the  life  we  enter  there,  is 
this,  that  the  "  Lamp  thereof  is  the  Lamb." 

A  natural,  and  I  think  a  practical,  suggestion  now 
arises  that  may  well  have  its  effect  not  only  on  a  good 
deal  of  the  language  that  we  use,  but  an  effec|,  also,  on 
the  conduct  of  life.  We  all  want  to  "go  to  heaven," 
as  we  say.  We  all  speak  of  heaven  as  an  object  of 
forecast  and  desire.     Very  well.     It  is  a  good  desire. 


SERMONS.  269 

It  is  told  of  the  worthies  of  Old  Testament  history  as 
a  very  distinguishing  feature  of  their  experience  and  a 
very  auspicious  trait  of  their  character,  that  they 
desired  the  same  thing.  These  all  desired  "abetter 
country,  that  is,  an  heavenly,"  looked  for  it,  greeted  it 
from  afar,  and  "  confessed  that  they  were  strangers 
and  pilgrims  on  the  earth."  Very  well  !  If  we  are 
wise  we  shall  do  like  them.  We  shall  cultivate  this 
same  longing  for  a  country  which  is  "better"  ;  and  a 
"city  which  hath  foundations"  that  never  will  be 
removed. 

But,  let  us  remember  that  we  can  not  merely  go  to 
heaven,  we  can  bring  heaven  to  us.  The  characteristic 
feature  of  that  place  is  that  the  light  of  it  is  the  real- 
ized presence  and  friendship  of  Christ ;  and  that  is  an 
experience  which  can  be  translated  into  and  made  a 
part  of  our  present  lives. 

The  most  distinctive  thing  about  heaven  may  become 
a  very  distinctive  thing  about  earth.  The  light  in 
which  we  expect  to  walk  may  be  the  light  in  which  we 
now  walk.  To  an  extent  increasingly,  and  almost 
without  boundary,  large,  we  may  make  the  present  life 
a  counterpart  of  the  life  to  come.  We  may  fit  our- 
selves here  for  that  ;  nay,  we  may  do  vastly  more 
than  that,  we  may  practice  ourselves  in  it.  We  may 
make  it  simply  impossible  that  we  land  anywhere  else 
at  last,  than  in  that  place  for  which  we  are  fitted,  by 
longing,  by  assimilation,  by  conformity,  by  anticipatory, 
but  real,  experience.  Things  go  where  they  belong. 
Men  go  to  their  "own  place."  The  Christian  soul 
gravitates  to  heaven,  as  a  pebble  gravitates  to  the 
earth's  center. 

And  if  we  learn  thus  how  to  bring  heaven  to  us  by 


270  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

making  the  Lamp  of  our  lives  the  Lamb,  we  shall 
get  a  good  deal  of  clearness  on  the  best  way  to  bless 
and  help  this  troubled  world.  O,  the  foolish  and 
crazy  methods  men  sometimes  try, —  even  earnest  and 
well-wishing  men, —  in  the  endeavor  to  right  human 
wrong  and  uplift  human  depression  !  There  is  nothing 
in  the  scope  of  all  this  universe  which  can  so  uplift  a 
down-trodden  soul,  and  so  right  the  wrongs  of  an  in- 
jured one,  as  to  bring  Christ  into  contact  with  it.  The 
true  adjustment  of  the  relations  of  man  to  man,  of  cap- 
ital to  labor,  of  wealth  to  poverty  ;  in  short,  the  true 
redress  of  all  the  disorders  of  society,  attends  on  the 
fuller  illumination  of  these  problems,  not  so  much  by 
statesmanship  as  by  Christianity,  the  study  and  treat- 
ment of  them  in  the  light  of  the  example  and  the  spirit 
of  Christ.  As  fellow-workers  in  this  blessed  enter- 
prise, let  us  come  to  the  fountain  both  of  knowledge 
and  of  power  !  We  shall  work  better  for  our  fellow-men 
in  proportion  as  we  ourselves  are  filled  with  the  life  of 
the  Master.  For  our  own  sakes,  for  the  sake  of  the 
men  whom  we  would  help  to  better  things  here  and  to 
come,  let  us  seek  to  have  it  more  and  more  true  of  the 
lives  we  live,  that  "the  Light  thereof  is  the  Lamb." 


V. 


Dr.  Lyman's  Tribute  at  the  Unveiling  of  a  Com- 
memorative Tablet  in  the  First  Church, 
Hartford,  January  i},  1901. 


DR.    LYMAN  S    TRIBUTE. 


273 


From  the  Hartford  Conrant  of  Jaiuiary  i^,  igoi :  — 

Tablets  were  unveiled  at  the  First  Church  yester- 
day morning  in  memory  of  Rev.  Dr.  George  Leon 
Walker  and  Rev.  Dr.  Charles  M.  Lamson,  former  pas- 
tors of  the  church,  both  of  whom  are  now  dead.  The 
dedicatory  sermon  was  preached  by  Rev,  Dr.  Albert 
J.  Lyman  of  Brooklyn.  He  took  for  his  text  i  Cor- 
inthians iii :  5,  6,  and  8  :  "  Who  then  is  Paul,  and  who 
is  Apollos,  but  ministers  by  whom  ye  believed,  even  as 
the  Lord  gave  to  every  man  }  I  have  planted,  Apollos 
watered ;  but  God  gave  the  increase.  Now  he  that 
planteth  and  he  that  watereth  are  one." 

The  preacher  set  forth  with  great  clearness  and 
wealth  of  illustration  the  central  thought  of  the  text, 
that  the  vital  heart  and  effective  power  in  the  church 
and  its  ministry  is  of  God  rather  than  of  man.  The 
minister  is  the  agent  of  a  higher  spiritual  energy  than 
his  own.  In  the  temple,  under  which  figure  the 
Church  is  symbolized,  the  shaping  force  from  founda- 
tion to  finial  is  the  spirit  of  Christ.  Li  the  army,  by 
which  type  the  Church  is  set  forth,  Christ  is  the  real 
captain.  In  the  tilled  field,  to  which  the  apostle  com- 
pares the  Church  in  the  text,  Paul  and  Apollos  are 
only  husbandmen,  while  the  "increase"  is  of  God. 

Dr.  Lyman  then  said  :  — 

We  render  to-day  a  tribute  to  rare  human  genius. 
Our  eyes  are  wet  as  we  recall  the  finished  charm  of 
pastoral  devotion,  but  above  the  genius  and  within  the 

1 8 


274  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

devotion  we  see  the  face  and  feel  the  touch  of  the  Son 
of  God.  And  yet  all  the  more  because  Christ  so  or- 
dained the  succession  of  these  ministries,  we  do  well 
to  honor  them,  to  commemorate  them,  to  crown  those 
living  yonder,  whom  we  sometimes  call  the  dead.  We 
realize  with  a  nameless  thrill  that  the  very  power  of 
the  Living  Christ,  invisible  and  immortal,  was  upon 
them,  and  is  among  us  still.  We  breathe  the  fragrance 
of  blooms  that  cannot  fade.  We  feel  the  might  of  ar- 
dors that  cannot  die. 

By  the  pious  and  reverent  affection  of  this  church 
and  of  personal  friends,  two  tablets  of  bronze  have 
been  prepared  and  are  now  offered  and  placed  upon 
the  walls  of  this  historic  sanctuary,  bearing  the  names 
and  inscribed  to  the  honor  of  two  pastors  who,  in  suc- 
cession, served  this  church,  the  former  for  thirteen 
active  years,  the  latter  for  five;  so  that  ever  your  eyes 
and  those  of  your  children  shall  see  before  them  here 
the  revered  and  beloved  names  of  George  Leon  Walker 
and  Charles  Marion  Lamson. 

The  nature  of  this  occasion  and  its  limitation  of  time 
do  not  permit  minute  analysis  of  the  record  of  the  two 
remarkable  men  whose  life  is  thus  outlined.  But  both 
justice  and  love  command  that  some  word  should  be 
spoken.  May  the  present  speaker  set  formalities  aside 
and  out  of  his  own  heart  lay  his  poor  sprig  of  laurel 
upon  these  tablets  to-day. 

Dr.  Walker  was  my  senior  by  fifteen  years.  Dr. 
Lamson  but  two  years  older  than  myself.  Dr.  Walker 
was  the  inspirer  of  my  first  efforts  as  a  preacher  when 
he  was  pastor  of  the  Center  Church  at  New  Haven, 
and  I  a  resident  licentiate  at  the  Divinity  School.  It 
was  he  whose  worn,  tense,  masterful  face  looked  cour- 


DR.     LYMAN  S    TRIBUTE. 


275 


age  into  my  timid  eyes  when  I  tried  my  boyish  first 
sermon  in  his  great  pulpit. 

Dr.  Walker,  great-grandson  of  a  Revolutionary  sol- 
dier, eighth  in  descent  from  Richard  Walker  who  set- 
tled at  Lynn,  Mass.,  and  fought  in  the  early  Indian 
wars,  was  himself  martial  to  the  core  —  a  soldier  of  the 
Truth  and  of  Faith,  a  true  knight  of  God.  Born  to 
physical  disability  and  pain,  he  was  also  born  to  spir- 
itual dauntlessness  in  spite  of  pain.  He  was  a  student 
who  steadily  and  victoriously  measured  his  strength  of 
will  against  the  bayonet's  blade  of  insistent  disease. 
Weakened  in  frame,  half  blinded  for  a  time  by  typhoid 
fever,  he  climbed  on  his  crutches  the  Mount  Sion  of 
his  vocation.  A  braver  soul  never  breathed  the  New 
England  air.  Just  such  a  type  of  moral  valor  could 
have  been  produced  nowhere  but  in  New  England. 
A  sufferer  always,  yet  always  a  wrestler,  and  always  a 
conqueror,  the  pain  and  the  power  over  pain  both  en- 
tered, like  a  kind  of  mingled  iron  and  fire,  into  the  very 
texture  of  his  thinking,  driving  all  weakness  out,  burn- 
ing all  dross  away  —  entered  into  his  personal  attitude, 
his  pulpit  manner  and  message,  entered  into  his  ex- 
traordinary mastery  of  vivid  and  sinewy  phrase.  One 
looked  at  him  as  at  no  other  man,  reverently,  through 
tears. 

cannot  but  regard  him  as  one  of  the  great  pulpit 
stylists  of  his  time,  though  his  style,  as  a  minister's 
should  be,  was  more  for  the  whole  man  in  spok^  n 
utterance,  than  for  the  merely  written  page,  and  I  ^an 
imagine  the  half-stern,  half-smiling  way  in  which  he 
would  put  aside  all  such  comment  upon  style,  when  he 
simply  felt  himself  to  be  standing  between  Sinai  and 
Calvary  to  speak  to  the  people.     But  the  union  in  him 


276  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

of  an  intense,  ancestral  piety,  and  a  classic  sense  of 
perfection  in  literary  form,  together  with  this  incessant 
lash  of  suffering,  and  the  heroic  moral  clench  that  con- 
quers suffering,  produced  a  unique  and  vital  energy  in 
expression,  a  strange  fascination,  an  indescribably  sub- 
duing note  which  I  have  never  heard  elsewhere,  which 
sought  out  your  very  soul's  core  and  mastered  you  and 
won  you  before  you  were  aware. 

With  less  of  pain,  there  might  have  been  more  of 
leisurely  speculative  range,  certainly  more  of  buoyancy, 
but  also  probably  less  of  spiritual  vitality  and  subtle, 
half-unearthly  pathos.  He  came  into  New  England 
and  the  New  England  ministry  by  way  of  Horeb,  the 
Mount  of  God,  and  Gethsemane,  the  garden  of  tears 
and  the  angels.  One  could  not  look  at  him  and  not 
think  of  the  Ten  Commandments  and  the  Eternal 
Throne.  When  he  spoke,  you  waited  in  spite  of  your- 
self for  some  Sinaitic  flash,  and  sooner  or  later  it  came. 
He  spoke  his  soul.  I  thought  of  him  as  of  a  moving 
pillar,  with  something  of  the  cloud  by  day  and  the  fire 
by  night  —  a  living  incarnation,  beyond  almost  any 
other  man  I  ever  knew,  of  the  reality  and  the  mastery 
of  the  Unseen. 

You  know  his  public  service.  Independent,  cogent, 
keen,  and  strong,  he  exerted  a  most  powerful  influence 
upon  current  and  critical  discussions  in  our  denomina- 
tional life.  He  loved  the  heart  of  orthodoxy,  yet  loved 
the  freedom  which  alone  gave  to  orthodoxy  its  ethical 
value.  He  was  a  power  in  the  church  and  in  the  land. 
He  was  a  wise  counsellor  as  well  as  public  leader, 
touching  nothing  but  to  clarify  it  and  strengthen  it. 
He  was  a  very  careful  student,  a  lover  of  letters,  a 
lover  of  history.     Through  his  local  historical  studies 


DR.    LYMAN  S    TRIBUTE.  277 

and  monographs,  he  became  identified  more  and  more 
with  Hartford. 

When  he  came  to  this  church  he  instantly  compre- 
hended and  mastered  a  critical  and  somewhat  peril- 
ous situation.  He  created  a  fresh  alignment  of  church 
and  civil  forces,  launched  the  society  upon  a  renewed 
career,  kindled  a  light  in  this  pulpit  which  shone  like  a 
torch,  far  and  wide,  and  furthered  renovations  and 
works  of  improvement  in  the  neighboring  environ- 
ment, which,  largely  through  the  instrumentality  of 
the  devoted  hands  of  the  women  of  the  church  and  the 
city,  have  been  carried  to  a  beautiful  and  complete 
fulfillment. 

At  length,  in  June  of  '92,  he  was  forced  by  stress  of 
ill  health  to  resign  his  pastoral  charge.  He  was  at 
once,  by  spontaneous  insistence  of  church  and  society, 
made  pastor  emeritus.  In  '96  came  the  stroke  which 
left  his  body  helpless,  but  could  no  more  touch  the 
glowing:  and  dauntless  soul  than  the  frost  at  the  rim  of 
the  fountain  touches  the  springing  splendor  of  the 
fountain's  jet. 

New  England  has  never  seen  a  more  nobly  pathetic 
picture  than  the  emeritus  pastorate  of  Dr.  Walker. 
Embosomed  in  a  home  devoted  to  him,  in  the  midst  of 
a  church  and  city  that  revered  him,  this  gallant  hero  of 
the  Living  God,  deprived  largely  of  physical  power, 
yet  kept  alive  his  eager  and  loving  interest  in  his  peo- 
ple and  in  the  interests  of  the  Kingdom  of  Christ  on 
earth,  and  with  his  strange  inner  spiritual  fire  all  un- 
cooled,  waited  for  death  as  for  an  old  servant  whom  in 
other  days  he  had  resolutely  bidden  to  bide  his  time 
until  sunset,  till  his  master's  work  was  fully  finished. 
Then  came  the  sunset  gun,  and  this  valiant  knight  of 


278  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

the  New  England  pulpit   smiled  across   and  said  his 
"  adsuni  "  and  was  ready. 

"  Nothing  is  here  for  tears, 
Nothing  to  wail,  to  knock  the  breast, 
No  weakness,  no  contempt,  dispraise  or  blame  ; 
Nothing  but  well  and  fair. 
And  what  may  quiet  us  in  a  death  so  noble." 


T/ie  Tablet. 


TO    THE   MEMORY   OF 

GEORGE  LEON  WALKER,  D.D., 

BORN    1830  —  DIED    1900. 

ORDAINED   TO   THE   GOSPEL   MINISTRY 

1858. 

PASTOR   OF    THE 

STATE    STREET   CHURCH,    PORTLAND,    ME., 

1858-1867. 

PASTOR    OF   THE 

FIRST   CHURCH    OF    CHRIST,    NEW    HAVEN,    CONN. 

1 868-1 873. 

ACTING   PASTOR    OF   THE 
CENTER   CHURCH,   BRATTLEBORO,    VT., 
1875-1878. 
PASTOR   OF   THE 
FIRST   CHURCH    OF   CHRIST,    HARTFORD,    CONN., 
1 879-1 892. 
PASTOR   EMERITUS 
FROM    1892    UNTIL   THE   DAY   OF    HIS    DEATH. 
A    SCHOLAR    AMONG   STUDENTS. 
A    COUNSELOR   AMONG   FRIENDS. 
A   LEADER   AMONG   ASSOCIATES. 
A   PREACHER   OF    COMMANDING   POWER. 
A   CHRISTIAN   OF    CONSPICUOUS    LIFE. 
THIS   TABLET   IS   PLACED   BY   THE   PEOPLE    OF 
THIS    CHURCH 
WHOM    HE   SERVED   AND   BY    WHOM    HE    WAS 
REVERED. 


VI. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY. 


A  BIBLIOGRAPHY  OF  DR.  WALKER'S  PUB- 
LICATIONS, EXCLUSIVE  OF  NEWSPAPER 
ARTICLES.* 

I. 

The  Material  and  the  Spiritual  in  our  National  Life,  and 
Their  Present  Mutual  Relations :  a  Sermon  preached  in  State 
Street  Church.  Portland,  Nov.  24,  1859. 

Portland,  1859,  pp.  30. 

II. 

Anniversary  Sermon  before  Y.  M.  C.  A.,  in  Seventh  Annual 
Report  of  the  Portland  Y.  M.  C.  A. 

Portland,  1860,  pp.  13-28. 

III. 

The  Offered  National  Regeneration :  a  Sermon  preached  in 
the  State  Street  Church,  Portland,  Sept.  26,  1861. 

Portland,  1861,  pp.  24. 

IV. 

What  the  Year  Has  Done  for  Us :  a  Sermon  preached  in  the 
State  Street  Church,  Portland,  Nov.  21,  1861. 

Portland,  1861,  pp.  16. 

V. 

Ministers  and  Their  Households :  a  Sermon  preached  before 
the  Maine  Congregational  Charitable  Society,  etc.,  June  21,  1864. 

Portland,  1864,  pp.  12. 


*Dr.  Walker  kept  no  list  of  his  publications.  The  present  Biblio- 
graphy has,  however,  been  compiled  with  a  good  deal  of  care  and  is 
believed  to  be  approximately  complete. 


282  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

VI. 

Address :  in  "  Annual  Report  presented  by  the  Trustees  of 
the  Massachusetts  Bible  Society,  May  25,  1865." 

Boston,  1865,  pp.  16-22. 

VII. 

A  Look  Back  and  Before :  Thanksgiving  Sermon,  Portland, 
1865. 

VIII. 

The  Sepulchre  in  the  Garden. 

Boston,  1866,  pp.  31. 
2d  ed.     Hartford,  1889,  pp.  32. 

IX. 

The  Present  Times  Foretold. 

Yarmouth  (no  date),  pp.  4. 

X. 

Charles  Walker.  A  Memorial  Sketch.  Reprinted  from  the 
Congregational  Quarterly  for  July,  1871. 

Boston,  1 87 1,  pp.  21. 

XI. 

Sermon,  in  "  Exercises  at  Dedication  of  the  New  Congrega- 
tional Church,  Manchester,  Vt.,  Aug.  23,  1871." 

Manchester,  1871,  pp.  3-12. 

XII. 

Sermons  preached  in  the  First  Church  of  Christ  in  Hartford 
by  Rev.  Leonard  Bacon,  D.D.,  LL.D.,  and  Rev.  George  Leon 
Walker,  D.D.,  on  the  Occasion  of  the  Settlement  of  the  Latter  in 
the  Ministry  over  that  Church.     ("  The  Church  a  Home.") 

Hartford,  1879,  pp.  19-36. 

XIII. 

A  Just  Balance  and  a  Just  Hin :  a  Sermon  preached  in  First 
Church,  Hartford,  April  11,  1880. 

Hartford,  1880,  pp.  17. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY.  283 

XIV. 

False  Ideas  of  God :  Three  Sermons  preached  in  the  First 
Church  of  Christ  in  Hartford. 

Hartford,  1881,  pp.  54. 

XV. 

Discourses  by  Rev.  Prof.  Edwin  E.  Johnson,  D.D.,  and  Rev. 
George  L.  Walker,  D.D.,  delivered  in  the  Center  Church,  Hart- 
ford, at  the  Seventy-first  Anniversary  of  the  Connecticut  Bible 
Society,  May  3,  1881. 

Hartford,  1881,  pp.  9-16. 

XVI. 

A  Sermon  on  the  Death  of  President  Garfield,  preached  in 
the  First  Church  of  Hartford,  Sept.  25,  1881. 

Hartford,  1881,  pp.  21. 

XVII. 

Sermon  Commemorative  of  Rev.  Dr.  Leonard  Bacon, 
preached  in  the  First  Church,  New  Haven,  Jan.  15,  1882,  in 
"  Leonard  Bacon:  Pastor  of  the  First  Church  in  New  Haven.'' 

New  Haven,  1882,  pp.  167-186. 

XVIII. 

The  Young  Men's  Christian  Association :  an  Address  deliv- 
ered in  the  First  Church  of  Christ,  Hartford,  Nov.  2,  1882. 

Hartford,  1882,  pp.  12. 

XIX. 

Historical  Address,  in  "  Commemorative  Exercises  of  the 
First  Church  of  Christ  in  Hartford  at  its  250th  Anniversary, 
Oct.  II   and  12,  .1883." 

Hartford,  1883,  pp.  37-99. 

XX. 

History  of  the  First  Church  in  Hartford,  1633 -1883. 

Hartford,  1884,  pp.  xii,  503. 


284  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

XXI. 

Middle  Walls  Broken  Down :  a  Sermon  preached  before  the 
American  Missionary  Association  at  Salem,  Oct.  21,  1884. 

New  York,  1884,  pp.  8. 

XXII. 

Men  and  Women  of  the  Church,  an  Address,  in  Congrega- 
tional Church,  Pittsford,  Vt.,  "  Centennial  Observance." 

Rutland,  1885,  pp.  44-51. 

XXIII. 

The  Witness  to  the  Founders'  Faith :  a  Sermon  before  the 
American  Board  of  Commissioners  for  Foreign  Missions  at  Bos- 
ton, Oct.  13,  1885. 

Boston,  1885,  pp.  18. 

XXIV. 

The  First  Church.  In  the  "  Memorial  History  of  Hartford 
County." 

Boston,  1886,  Vol.  I  :  277-287. 

XXV. 

Words  of  Comfort  for  the  New  Year,  spoken  in  the  First 
Church  of  Christ  in  Hartford,  Jan.  i,  1888. 

Hartford,  18S8,  pp.  14. 

XXVI. 

The  Growth  of  the  Kingdom :  Address  at  Yale  Theological 
Anniversary,  May  16,  1888. 

New  Haven,  1888,  pp.  15. 

XXVII. 

Things  of  Present  Significance :  a  Sermon  preached  on  the 
Sixty-second  Anniversary  of  the  American  Home  Missionary 
Society  at  Saratoga  Springs,  June  5,  1888. 

New  York,  1888,  pp.  16. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY.  285 

XXVIII. 

One  Hundred  and  Seventeenth  Anniversary  Governor's  Foot 
Guard,  Hartford,  Conn.,  Oct.  19,  188S.     Sermon. 

Hartford,  1888,  pp.  5-15. 

XXIX. 

Ten  Years  in  the  Life  of  a  Church:  a  Sermon  preached  in 
the  First  Church  of  Hartford,  March  3,  1889. 

Hartford,  1889,  pp.  24. 

XXX. 

A  Church's  Thanksgiving :  a  Sermon   preached  in  the  First 
Church  in  Hartford,  Dec.  i,  1889. 

Hartford,  1889,  pp.  30. 

XXXI. 

Our   Father   in   Heaven :  a  Sermon   preached   in   the    First 
Church  in  Hartford,  Feb.  9,  1890. 

Hartford,  1890,  pp.  32. 

XXXII. 

The  Earth  Teaches :  a  Sermon  preached  in  the  First  Church 
in  Hartford,  March  16,  1890. 

Hartford,  1890,  pp.  33. 

XXXIII. 

Tlie  Open  Door :  a  Sermon  preached  in  the  First  Church  in 
Hartford,  Sept.  28,  1S90. 

Hartford,  1890,  pp.  35. 

XXXIV. 

Thankfulness   for   Living    Now :  a  Sermon  preaclied  in  the 
Finst  Church  in  Hartford,  Nov.  27,  1890. 

Hartford,  1890,  pp.  43. 

XXXV. 

From  Scrool^y  to  Plymoutli :   a  Sermon  preached  in  tlie  First 

Church  in  Hartford,  Dec.  21,  1890. 

Hartford,  1891,  pp.  40. 


286  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

XXXVI. 

All   them  that   Sail  with  Thee :  a  Sermon  preached  in  the 
First  Church  in  Hartford,  Jan.  ii.  1891. 

Hartford,  1891.  pp.  30. 

XXXVII. 

Our   Humble  Associates:  a  Sermon    preached    in  the  First 
Church  in  Hartford,  May  3,  1891. 

Hartford,  1891,  pp.  38. 

XXXVIII. 

As  Much  as  in  Me  is :  a  Sermon  preached  in  the  P'irst  Church 
in  Hartford,  June  21,  1891. 

Hartford,  1891,  pp.  33. 

XXXIX. 

Remembrances  from  the  Hill  Mizar:  a  Sermon   preached  in 
the  First  Church  in  Hartford,  Sept.  20,  1891. 

Hartford,  1891,  pp.  34. 

XL. 

God's  Promises  Conditional :  a  Sermon  preached  in  the  First 
Church  in  Hartford,  Nov.  i,  1891. 

Hartford,  1891,  pp.  35. 

XLI. 

Our  City's  Welfare :  a  Sermon  preached  in  the  Urst  Church 
in  Hartford,  Nov.  8,  1891. 

Hartford,  1891,  pp.  35. 

XLII. 

Christian   Consciousness :  a  Sermon    preached   in  the   First 
Church  in  Hartford,  Dec.  20,  1891. 

Hartford,  1891,  pp.  36. 

XLIII. 

Thomas  Hooker:   Preacher,  Founder,  Democrat. 

New  York,  1891,  pp.  vii,  203. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY.  287 

XLIV. 

William  Goodwin:  In  "The  Goodwins  of  Hartford,  Conn." 

Hartford,  1891,  pp.  75-94. 

XLV. 

The  Perfected  Life  :  a  Sermon  preached  in  the  First  Church 
in  Hartford.  Nov.  13,  1S92. 

Hartford,  1892,  pp.  30. 

XLVI. 

Francis  Parkman  :  a  Biographical  and  Critical  Sketch.  The 
Nation.  LVII  :   365. 

New  York,  1893. 

XLVII. 

Stephen  Ambrose  Walker:  a  Memorial  Sketch.  Privately 
printed. 

Hartford,  1893,  pp.  33. 

XLVIII. 

The  Breadth,  and  Length,  and  Depth,  and  Height :  a  Ser- 
mon preached  in  the  First  Church  in  Hartford,  April  29,  1894. 

Hartford,  1894,  pp.  35. 

XLIX. 

1 737-1 747?  L)iary  of  Rev.  Daniel  Wadsworth,  Seventh  Pastor 
of  the  First  Church  of  Christ  in  Hartford,  with  Notes  by  the 
Fourteenth  Pastor. 

Hartford,  1894,  pp.  149. 

L. 

Brattleboro  North  End  :  in  "  Picturesque  Brattleboro." 

Northampton,  1894,  pp.  70-S1. 

LI. 
He  Careth  for  You :  a  Sermon  preached  in  the  First  Church 
in  Hartford,  April  21,  1895. 

Hartford,  1895,  pp.  32. 


288  REVEREND    GEORGE    LEON    WALKER,    D.D. 

LII. 

The  Capture  of  Louisbourg :  Address  before  the  Connecticut 
Society  of  Colonial  Wars,  May  i,  1895. 

New  York,  1895,  pp.  16. 

LIII. 

Town  Loyalty :  an  Address  at  the  Dedication  of  the  Walker 
Memorial  Building,  Pittsford,  Vt.,  Sept.  11,  1895. 

Hartford,  1895,  pp.  9-24. 

LIV. 

The  Old  Hartford  Burying-Ground :  an  Address  before  the 
Ruth  Wyllys  Chapter,  Daughters  of  the  American  Revolution. 

Hartford,  1895,  pp.  32. 

LV. 

Some  Aspects  of  the  Religious  Life  of  New  England  :  Lec- 
tures Delivered  on  the  Carew  Foundation  before  Hartford  Theo- 
logical Seminary  in  1896. 

Boston,  1897,  pp.  208. 


Theoloqicil  Semm.ify-Spee* 


1    1012  01035  0629 


